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Accessions  No.    V/ ^.5'^    Class  No. 


a 


LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


TO 


FANNY  KEMBLE. 


.-.-iBeoieyiStn:  18S5 


LETTERS 


OF 


EDWARD    FITZGERALD 


TO 


FANNY    KEMBLE 
1871-1883. 


EDITED    BY 

WILLIAM    ALDIS    WRIGHT. 


LONDON : 

RICHARD   BENTLEY   &   SON, 

PUBLISHERS   in   ORDINARY  to   HER   MAJESTY. 

l8o  5".  C-^  tt  righ  ts  reserved. ) 


7/^  J'V- 


Of  the  letters  which  are  contained  in  the  present 
volume,  the  first  eighty-five  were  in  the  possession 
of  the  late  Mr.  George  Bentley,  who  took  great 
interest  in  their  publication  in  The  Temple  Bar 
Magazine,  and  was  in  correspondence  with  the 
Editor  until  within  a  short  time  of  his  death.  The 
remainder  were  placed  in  the  Editor's  hands  by  Mrs. 
Kemble  in  1883,  and  of  these  some  were  printed 
in  whole  or  in  part  in  FitzGerald's  Letters  and 
Literary  Remains,  which  first  appeared  in  1889. 

Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
20th  June,  1895. 


Plbl^X 


OF  THK 


[  univ: 


IBS   A^HIS    IK.E  . ...:.     3L 


LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

TO 

FANNY  KEMBLE. 
1871-1883. 


*  Letters  .  .  .  such  as  are  written  from  wise  men,  are,  of  all 
the  words  of  man,  in  my  judgment  the  best.' — Bacon. 

The  following  letters,  addressed  by  Edward  Fitz- 
Gerald  to  his  life-long  friend  Fanny  Kemble,  form  an 
almost  continuous  series,  from  the  middle  of  187 1  to 
within  three  weeks  of  his  death  in  1883.  They  are 
printed  as  nearly  as  possible  as  he  wrote  them,  pre- 
serving his  peculiarities  of  punctuation  and  his  use 
of  capital  letters,  although  in  this  he  is  not  always 
consistent.  In  writing  to  me  in  1873  he  said,  'I 
love  the  old  Capitals  for  Nouns.'  It  has  been  a 
task  of  some  difficulty  to  arrange  the  letters  in  their 
proper  order,  in  consequence  of  many  of  them  being 
either  not  dated  at  all  or  only  imperfectly  dated ;  but 
I  hope  I  have  succeeded  in  giving  them,  approxim- 
ately at  least,  in  their   true  sequence.      The   notes 

1 


2     LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD     [187 1 

which  are  added  are  mainly  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
plaining allusions,  and  among  them  will  be  found 
extracts  from  other  letters  in  my  possession  which 
have  not  been  published.  The  references  to  the 
printed  'Letters'  are  to  the  separate  edition  in  the 
Eversley  Series,  2  vols.  (Macmillans,  1894). 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Arthur  Malkin,  October  15,  1854 
('  Further  Records,'  ii.  193),  Mrs.  Kemble  enunciates 
her  laws  of  correspondence,  to  which  frequent  refer- 
ence is  made  in  the  present  series  as  the  laws  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians  :  '  You  bid  me  not  answer  your 
letter,  but  I  have  certain  organic  laws  of  correspond- 
ence from  which  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  causes 
me  to  depart;  as,  for  instance,  I  never  write  till  I 
am  written  to,  I  always  write  when  I  am  written  to, 
and  I  make  a  point  of  always  returning  the  same 
amount  of  paper  I  receive,  as  you  may  convince 
yourself  by  observing  that  I  send  you  two  sheets  of 
note-paper  and  Mary  Anne  only  half  one,  though  I 
have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you,  and  I  have 
to  her.' 

WILLIAM    ALDIS   WRIGHT. 


1871]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE 


I. 

Woodbridge,  July  4,  [1871.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  asked  Donne  to  tell  you,  if  he  found 
opportunity,  that  some  two  months  ago  I  wrote  you 
a  letter,  but  found  it  so  empty  and  dull  that  I  would 
not  send  it  to  extort  the  Reply  which  you  feel  bound 
to  give.  I  should  have  written  to  tell  you  so  myself; 
but  I  heard  from  Donne  of  the  Wedding  soon  about 
to  be,  and  I  would  not  intrude  then.  Now  that  is 
over x — I  hope  to  the  satisfaction  of  you  all — and  I 
will  say  my  little  say,  and  you  will  have  to  Reply, 
according  to  your  own  Law  of  Mede  and  Persian. 

It  is  a  shame  that  one  should  only  have  oneself 
to  talk  about ;  and  yet  that  is  all  I  have ;  so  it  shall 
be  short.  If  you  will  but  tell  me  of  yourself,  who 
have  read,  and  seen,  and  done,  so  much  more,  you 
will  find  much  more  matter  for  your  pen,  and  also  for 
my  entertainment. 

Well,  I  have  sold  my  dear  little  Ship,2  because  I 
could  not  employ  my  Eyes  with  reading  in  her  Cabin, 
where  I  had  nothing  else  to  do.     I  think  those  Eyes 

1  Mrs.  Kemble's  daughter,  Frances  Butler,  was  married  to  the 
Hon.  and  Rev.  James  Wentworth  Leigh,  now  Dean  of  Hereford, 
29th  June,  1871. 

2  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  126. 


r 


4     LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD     [1871 

began  to  get  better  directly  I  had  written  to  agree 
to  the  Man's  proposal.  Anyhow,  the  thing  is  done ; 
and  so  now  I  betake  myself  to  a  Boat,  whether  on 
this  River  here,  or  on  the  Sea  at  the  Mouth  of  it. 

Books  you  see  I  have  nothing  to  say  about.  The 
Boy  who  came  to  read  to  me  made  such  blundering 
Work  that  I  was  forced  to  confine  him  to  a  News- 
paper, where  his  Blunders  were  often  as  entertaining 
as  the  Text  which  he  mistook.  We  had  '  hangarues  ' 
in  the  French  Assembly,  and,  on  one  occasion,  '  iron- 
clad Laughter  from  the  Extreme  Left.'  Once  again, 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  London  news,  '  Consolations 
closed  at  91,  ex  Div.' — And  so  on.  You  know  how 
illiterate  People  will  jump  at  a  Word  they  don't 
know,  and  twist  it  in[to]  some  word  they  are  familiar 
with.  I  was  telling  some  of  these  Blunders  to  a  very 
quiet  Clergyman  here  some  while  ago,  and  he  assured 
me  that  a  poor  Woman,  reading  the  Bible  to  his 
Mother,  read  off  glibly,  '  Stand  at  a  Gate  and  swallow 
a  Candle.'  I  believe  this  was  no  Joke  of  his  :  whether 
it  were  or  not,  here  you  have  it  for  what  you  may 
think  it  worth. 

I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that  you  think  Donne 
looking  and  seeming  well.  Archdeacon  Groome, 
who  saw  him  lately,  thought  he  looked  very  jaded  : 
which  I  could  not  wonder  at.  Donne,  however, 
writes  as  if  in  good  Spirits — brave  Man  as  he  is — 
and  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  tell  me  that  he  is 
not  so  much  amiss.  He  said  that  he  was  to  be  at 
the  Wedding. 


1871]  TO   FANNY   KEMBLE  5 

You  will  tell  me  too  how  long  you  remain  in 
England ;  I  fancy,  till  Winter  :  and  then  you  will 
go  to  Rome  again,  with  its  new  Dynasty  installed  in 
it.  I  fancy  I  should  not  like  that  so  well  as  the  old; 
but  I  suppose  it's  better  for  the  Country. 

I  see  my  Namesake  (Percy)  Fitzgerald  advertizes  a 
Book  about  the  Kembles.  That  I  shall  manage  to 
get  sight  of.  He  made  far  too  long  work  of  Garrick. 
I  should  have  thought  the  Booksellers  did  not  find 
that  pay,  judging  by  the  price  to  which  Garrick  soon 
came  down.     Half  of  it  would  have  been  enough. 

Now  I  am  going  for  a  Sail  on  the  famous  River 
Deben,  to  pass  by  the  same  fields  of  green  Wheat, 
Barley,  Rye,  and  Beet-root,  and  come  back  to  the 
same  Dinner.  Positively  the  only  new  thing  we  have 
in  Woodbridge  is  a  Waxen  Bust  (Lady,  of  course)  at 
the  little  Hairdresser's  opposite.  She  turns  slowly 
round,  to  our  wonder  and  delight ;  and  I  caught  the 
little  Barber  the  other  day  in  the  very  Act  of  winding 
her  up  to  run  her  daily  Stage  of  Duty.  Well;  she 
has  not  got  to  answer  Letters,  as  poor  Mrs.  Kemble 
must  do  to  hers  always  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


II. 

Woodbridge.    Nov.  2/71. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Is  it  better  not  to  write  at  all  than  only 
write   to  plead  that  one  has  nothing  to  say?     Yet 


6     LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD     [1871 

I  don't  like  to  let  the  year  get  so  close  to  an  end 
without  reminding  you  of  me,  to  whom  you  have 
been  always  so  good  in  the  matter  of  replying  to  my 
letters,  as  in  other  ways. 

If  I  can  tell  you  nothing  of  myself:  no  Books  read 
because  of  no  Eyes  to  read  them :  no  travel  from 
home  because  of  my  little  Ship  being  vanished :  no 
friends  seen,  except  Donne,  who  came  here  with 
Valentia  for  two  days — you  can  fill  a  sheet  like  this, 
I  know,  with  some  account  of  yourself  and  your 
Doings :  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  that  all  is 
well  with  you.  Donne  said  he  believed  you  were  in 
Ireland  when  he  was  here;  and  he  spoke  of  your 
being  very  well  when  he  had  last  seen  you ;  also 
telling  me  he  thought  you  were  to  stay  in  England 
this  winter.  By  the  by,  I  also  heard  of  Mrs.  Wister 
being  at  Cambridge ;  not  Donne  told  me  this,  but 
Mr.  Wright,  the  Bursar  of  Trinity:  and  every  one 
who  speaks  of  her  says  she  is  a  very  delightful  Lady. 
Donne  himself  seemed  very  well,  and  in  very  good 
Spirits,  in  spite  of  all  his  domestic  troubles.  What 
Courage,  and  Good  Temper,  and  Self-sacrifice ! 
Valentia  (whom  I  had  not  seen  these  dozen  years) 
seemed  a  very  sensible,  unaffected  Woman. 

I  would  almost  bet  that  you  have  not  read  my 
Namesake's  Life  of  your  Namesakes,  which  I  must 
borrow  another  pair  of  Eyes  for  one  day.  My  Boy- 
reader  gave  me  a  little  taste  of  it  from  the  Athenaeum ; 
as  also  of  Mr.  Harness'  Memoirs,1  which  I  must  get  at. 

1  FitzGerald's  Lives  of  the  Kembles  was  reviewed  in  the  Athenaum, 


1871]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  7 

This  is  a  sorry  sight1  of  a  Letter : — do  not  trouble 
yourself  to  write  a  better — that  you  must,  in  spite  of 
yourself — but  write  to  me  a  little  about  yourself; 
which  is  a  matter  of  great  Interest  to  yours  always 

E.  F.G. 

III. 

[Nov.  1 87 1.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  ought  to  be  much  obliged  to  you  for 
answering  my  last  letter  with  an  uneasy  hand,  as  you 
did.  So  I  do  thank  you :  and  really  wish  that  you 
would  not  reply  to  this  under  any  such  pain  :  but 
how  do  I  know  but  that  very  pain  will  make  you 
more  determined  to  reply  ?  I  must  only  beg  you  not 
to  do  so :  and  thus  wash  my  hands  of  any  responsi- 
bilities in  the  matter. 

And  what  will  you  say  when  I  tell  you  that  I  can 
hardly  pity  one  who  suffers  from  Gout ;  though  I 
would  undoubtedly  prefer  that  you  should  be  free 
from  that,  or  any  other  ailment.  But  I  have  always 
heard  that  Gout  exempts  one  from  many  other 
miseries  which  Flesh  is  heir  to  :  at  any  rate,  it  almost 
always  leaves  the  Head  clear :  and  that  is  so  much  ! 
My  Mother,  who  suffered  a  good  deal,  used  often  to 
say  how  she  was  kept  awake  of  nights  by  the  Pain 
in  her  feet,  or  hands,  but  felt  so  clear  aloft  that  she 

12th    August,    1871,    and  the    'Memoirs    of  Mr.   Harness,'   28th 
October. 

1  Macbeth,  ii.  2,  21. 


8     LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD     [1871 

made  Night  pass  even  agreeably  away  with  her  reflec- 
tions and  recollections. 

And  you  have  your  recollections  and  Reflections 
which  you  are  gathering  into  Shape,  you  say,  in  a 
Memoir  of  your  own  Life.    And  you  are  good  enough 
to  say  that  you  would  read  it  to  me  if  I — were  good 
enough  to  invite  you  to  my  House  here  some  Summer 
Day !     I  doubt  that  Donne  has  given  you  too  flatter- 
ing an  account  of  my  house,  and  me  :  you  know  he 
is  pleased  with  every  one  and  everything  :    I  know 
it  also,  and  therefore  no  longer  dissuade  him  from 
spending  his  time  and  money  in  a  flying  Visit  here 
in   the  course  of  his  Visits  to  other  East  Anglian 
friends  and  Kinsmen.     But  I  feel  a  little  all  the  while 
as  if  I  were  taking  all,  and  giving  nothing  in  return  : 
I  mean,   about   Books,   People,    etc.,  with  which   a 
dozen  years  discontinuance  of  Society,  and,  latterly, 
incompetent  Eyes,  have  left  me  in  the  lurch.     If  you 
indeed  will  come  and  read  your  Memoir  to  me,  I 
shall   be   entitled  to  be  a  Listener  only :    and  you 
shall  have  my  Chateau  all  to  yourself  for  as  long  as 
you  please  :  only  do  not  expect  me  to  be  quite  what 
Donne  may  represent. 

It  is  disgusting  to  talk  so  much  about  oneself: 
but  I  really  think  it  is  better  to  say  so  much  on  this 
occasion.  If  you  consider  my  circumstances,  you 
will  perhaps  see  that  I  am  not  talking  unreasonably : 
I  am  sure,  not  with  sham  humility :  and  that  I  am 
yours  always  and  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


1871]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE 

P.S.  I  should  not  myself  have  written  so  soon 
again,  but  to  apprise  you  of  a  brace  of  Pheasants 
I  have  sent  you.  Pray  do  not  write  expressly  to 
acknowledge  them  : — only  tell  me  if  they  don't  come. 
I  know  you  thank  me.1 

1  In  writing  to  Sir  Frederick  Pollock  on  November  17th,  1871, 
FitzGerald  says  : — 

'  The  Game-dealer  here  telling  me  that  he  has  some  very  good 
Pheasants,  I  have  told  him  to  send  you  a  Brace — to  go  in  company 
with  Braces  to  Carlyle,  and  Mrs.  Kemble.  This  will,  you  may 
think,  necessitate  your  writing  a  Reply  of  Thanks  before  your  usual 
time  of  writing  :  but  don't  do  that : — only  write  to  me  now  in  case 
the  Pheasants  don't  reach  you  ;  I  know  you  will  thank  me  for  them, 
whether  they  reach  you  or  not  ;  and  so  you  can  defer  writing  so 
much  till  you  happen  next  upon  an  idle  moment  which  you  may 
think  as  well  devoted  to  me  ;  you  being  the  only  man,  except  Donne, 
who  cares  to  trouble  himself  with  a  gratuitous  letter  to  one  who 
really  does  not  deserve  it. 

1  Donne,  you  know,  is  pleased  with  Everybody,  and  with  Every- 
thing that  Anybody  does  for  him.  You  must  take  his  Praises  of 
Woodbridge  with  this  grain  of  Salt  to  season  them.  It  may  seem 
odd  to  you  at  first — but  not  perhaps  on  reflection — that  I  feel  more 
— nervous,  I  may  say — at  the  prospect  of  meeting  with  an  old 
Friend,  after  all  these  years,  than  of  any  indifferent  Acquaintance. 
I  feel  it  the  less  with  Donne,  for  the  reason  aforesaid — why  should 
I  not  feel  it  with  you  who  have  given  so  many- tokens  since  our  last 
meeting  that  you  are  well  willing  to  take  me  as  I  am  ?  If  one  is, 
indeed,  by  Letter  what  one  is  in  person. — I  always  tell  Donne  not 
to  come  out  of  his  way  here — he  says  he  takes  me  in  the  course  of 
a  Visit  to  some  East- Anglian  kinsmen.  Have  you  ever  any  such 
reason  ? — Well ;  if  you  have  no  better  reason  than  that  of  really 
wishing  to  see  me,  for  better  or  worse,  in  my  home,  come — some 
Spring  or  Summer  day,  when  my  Home  at  any  rate  is  pleasant. 
This  all  sounds  mock-modesty :  but  it  is  not ;  as  I  can't  read  Books, 
Plays,  Pictures,  etc.  and  don't  see  People,  I  feel,  when  a  Man 
comes,  that  I  have  all  to  ask  and  nothing  to  tell ;  and  one  doesn't 
like  to  make  a  Pump  of  a  Friend.' 


io    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1872 

IV. 

[27  Feb.,  1872.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Had  I  anything  pleasant  to  write  to  you,  or 
better  Eyes  to  write  it  with,  you  would  have  heard 
from  me  before  this.  An  old  Story,  by  way  of 
Apology — to  one  who  wants  no  such  Apology,  too. 
Therefore,  true  though  it  be  there  is  enough  of  it. 

I  hear  from  Mowbray  Donne  that  you  were  at  his 
Father's  Lectures,1  and  looking  yourself.  So  that  is 
all  right.  Are  your  Daughters — or  one  of  them — 
still  with  you  ?  I  do  not  think  you  have  been  to  see 
the  Thanksgiving  Procession,2  for  which  our  Bells 
are  even  now  ringing — the  old  Peal  which  I  have 
known  these — sixty  years  almost — though  at  that 
time  it  reached  my  Eyes  (sic)  through  a  Nursery 
window  about  two  miles  off.  From  that  window  I 
remember  seeing  my  Father  with  another  Squire'5 
passing  over  the  Lawn  with  their  little  pack  of 
Harriers — an    almost    obliterated    Slide   of  the   old 

1  At  the  Royal  Institution,  on  '  The  Theatre  in  Shakespeare's 
Time.'  The  series  consisted  of  six  lectures,  which  were  delivered 
from  20th  January  to  24th  February,  1872.  On  18th  February, 
1872,  Mrs.  Kemble  wrote  :  '  My  dear  old  friend  Donne  is  lecturing 
on  Shakespeare,  and  I  have  heard  him  these  last  two  times.  He  is 
looking  ill  and  feeble,  and  I  should  like  to  carry  him  off  too,  out  of 
the  reach  of  his  too  many  and  too  heavy  cares.' — '  Further  Records,' 

ii-  253. 

2  27th  February,  1872,  for  the  recovery  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

3  Mr.  Jenney,  the  owner  of  Bredfield  House,  where  FitzGerald 
was  born.    See  '  Letters,'  i.  64. 


1872]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  n 

Magic  Lantern.  My  Mother  used  to  come  up  some- 
times, and  we  Children  were  not  much  comforted. 
She  was  a  remarkable  woman,  as  you  said  in  a  former 
letter :  and  as  I  constantly  believe  in  outward  Beauty  as 
an  Index  of  a  Beautiful  Soul  within,  I  used  sometimes 
to  wonder  what  feature  in  her  fine  face  betrayed  what 
was  not  so  good  in  her  Character.  I  think  (as  usual) 
the  Lips :  there  was  a  twist  of  Mischief  about  them 
now  and  then,  like  that  in — the  Tail  of  a  Cat ! — 
otherwise  so  smooth  and  amiable.  I  think  she 
admired  your  Mother  as  much  as  any  one  she  knew, 
or  had  known. 

And  (I  see  by  the  Athenseum)  Mr.  Chorley  is  dead,1 
whom  I  used  to  see  at  your  Father's  and  Sister's 
houses.  Born  in  1808  they  say :  so,  one  year  older 
than  yours  truly  E.  F.G. — who,  however,  is  going  to 
live  through  another  page  of  Letter-paper.  I  think 
he  was  a  capital  Musical  Critic,  though  he  condemned 
Piccolomini,  who  was  the  last  Singer  I  heard  of 
Genius,  Passion,  and  a  Voice  that  told  both.  I  am 
told  she  was  no  Singer :  but  that  went  some  way  to 
make  amends.  Chorley,  too,  though  an  irritable, 
nervous  creature,  as  his  outside  expressed,  was  kind 
and  affectionate  to  Family  and  Friend,  I  always  heard. 
But  I  think  the  Angels  must  take  care  to  keep  in 
tune  when  he  gets  among  them. 

This  is  a  wretched  piece  of  Letter  to  extort  the 
Answer  which  you  feel  bound  to  give.  But  I  some- 
how wished  to  write  :  and  not  to  write  about  myself; 

1  H.  F.  Chorley  died  16th  February,  1872. 


12    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD   [1872 

and  so  have  only  left  room  to  say — to  repeat — that 
I  am  yours  ever  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


V. 

[1872.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  set  off  with  a  Letter  to  you,  though  I  do 
not  very  well  know  how  I  am  to  go  on  with  it.  But 
my  Reader  has  been  so  disturbed  by  a  Mouse  in  the 
room  that  I  have  dismissed  him — 9^  p.m. — and  he 
has  been  reading  (so  far  as  he  could  get  on)  Haw- 
thorne's Notes  of  Italian  Travel :  which  interest  me 
very  much  indeed,  as  being  the  Notes  of  a  Man  of 
Genius  who  will  think  for  himself  independently  of 
Murray  <S:c.  And  then  his  Account  of  Rome  has 
made  me  think  of  you  more  than  once.  We  have 
indeed  left  off  to-night  at  Radicofani  :  but,  as 
my  Boy  is  frightened  away  by  the  Mouse,  I  fancy 
I  will  write  to  you  before  I  take  my  one  Pipe — which 
were  better  left  alone,  considering  that  it  gives  but 
half  an  hour's  rather  pleasant  musing  at  the  expense 
of  a  troubled  night.  Is  it  not  more  foolish  then  to 
persist  in  doing  this  than  being  frightened  at  a  Mouse  ? 
This  is  not  a  mere  fancy  of  the  Boy — who  is  not  a 
Fool,  nor  a  '  Betty,'  and  is  seventeen  years  old :  he 
inherits  his  terror  from  his  Mother,  he  says  :  positively 
he  has  been  in  a  cold  Sweat  because  of  this  poor  little 
thing  in  the  room  :  and  yet  he  is  the  son  of  a  Butcher 


1872]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  13 

here.  So  I  sent  him  home,  and  write  to  you  instead 
of  hearing  him  read  Hawthorne.  He  is  to  bring 
some  poisoned  Wheat  for  the  Mouse  to-morrow. 

Another  Book  he  read  me  also  made  me  think  of 
you  :  Harness  :  whom  I  remember  to  have  seen  once 
or  twice  at  your  Father's  years  ago.  The  Memoir  of 
him  (which  is  a  poor  thing)  still  makes  one  like — nay, 
love — him — as  a  kindly,  intelligent,  man.  I  think  his 
latter  letters  very  pleasant  indeed. 

I  do  not  know  if  you  are  in  London  or  in  your 
'Villeggiatura'1  in  Kent.  Donne  must  decide  that  for 
me.  Even  my  Garden  and  Fields  and  Shrubs  are 
more  flourishing  than  I  have  yet  seen  them  at  this 
time  of  Year :  and  with  you  all  is  in  fuller  bloom, 
whether  you  be  in  Kent  or  Middlesex.  Are  you 
going  on  with  your  Memoir  ?  Pray  read  Hawthorne. 
I  dare  say  you  do  not  quite  forget  Shakespeare  now 
and  then  :  dear  old  Harness,  reading  him  to  the  last ! 

Pray  do  you  read  Annie  Thackeray's  new  Story2 
in  Cornhill  ?  She  wrote  me  that  she  had  taken  great 
pains  with  it,  and  so  thought  it  might  not  be  so  good 
as  what  she  took  less  pains  with.  I  doated  on  her 
Village  on  the  Cliff,  but  did  not  care  for  what  I  had 
read  of  hers  since :  and  this  new  Story  I  have  not 
seen  !     And  pray  do  you  doat  on  George  Eliot  ? 

Here   are  a  few  questions   suggested  for  you   to 


1  Perhaps  Widmore,   near   Bromley.      See  '  Further    Records, 
ii.  253. 

2  'Old  Kensington,'  the  first  number  of  which  appeared  in  the 
Cornhill  Magazine  for  April,  1872. 


14    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD   [1872 

answer — as  answer  I  know  you  will.  It  is  almost  a 
Shame  to  put  you  to  it  by  such  a  piece  of  inanity  as 
this  letter.  But  it  is  written :  it  is  10  p.m.  A  Pipe 
— and  then  to  Bed — with  what  Appetite  for  Sleep 
one  may. 

And  I  am  yours  sincerely  always 

E.  F.G. 

VI. 

Woodbridge  :  June  6,  [1872.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Some  little  while  ago  I  saw  in  a  London 
Book  Catalogue  'Smiles  and  Tears — a  Comedy  by 
Mrs.  C.  Kemble ' — I  had  a  curiosity  to  see  this  :  and 
so  bought  it.  Do  you  know  it  ? — Would  you  like  to 
have  it  ?  It  seems  to  be  ingeniously  contrived,  and 
of  easy  and  natural  Dialogue  :  of  the  half  sentimental 
kind  of  Comedy,  as  Comedies  then  were  (18 15)  with 
a  serious — very  serious — element  in  it — taken  from 
your  Mother's  Friend's,  Mrs.  Opie's  (what  a  sentence  !) 
story  of  '  Father  and  Daughter '  —  the  seduced 
Daughter,  who  finds  her  distracted  Father  writing 
her  name  on  a  Coffin  he  has  drawn  on  the  Wall  of 
his  Cell — All  ends  happily  in  the  Play,  however, 
whatever  may  be  the  upshot  of  the  Novel.  But  an 
odd  thing  is,  that  this  poor  Girl's  name  is  '  Fitz 
Harding' — and  the  Character  was  played  by  Miss 
Foote :  whether  before,  or  after,  her  seduction  by 
Colonel  Berkeley  I  know  not.  The  Father  was 
played  by  Young. 


1872]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  15 

Sir  Frederick  Pollock  has  been  to  see  me  here 
for  two  days,1  and  put  me  up  to  much  that  was  going 
on  in  the  civilized  World.  He  was  very  agreeable 
indeed  :  and  I  believe  his  Visit  did  him  good.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  your  Summer  ?  Surely 
never  came  Summer  with  more  Verdure  :  and  I 
somehow  think  we  shall  have  more  rain  to  keep  the 
Verdure  up,  than  for  the  last  few  years  we  have  had. 

I  am  quite  sure  of  the  merit  of  George  Eliot,  and 
(I  should  have  thought)  of  a  kind  that  would  suit  me. 
But  I  have  not  as  yet  found  an  Appetite  for  her.  I 
have  begun  taking  the  Cornhill  that  I  may  read 
Annie  Thackeray — but  I  have  not  found  Appetite 
for  her  as  yet.  Is  it  that  one  recoils  from  making 
so  many  new  Acquaintances  in  Novels,  and  retreats 
upon  one's  Old  Friends,  in  Shakespeare,  Cervantes, 
and  Sir  Walter?  Oh,  I  read  the  last  as  you  have 
lately  been  reading — the  Scotch  Novels,  I  mean  :  I 
believe  I  should  not  care  for  the  Ivanhoes,  Kenil- 
worths,  etc.,  any  more.  But  Jeanie  Deans,  the 
Antiquary,  etc.,  I  shall  be  theirs  as  long  as  I  am 
yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 

1  He  came  May  18th,  1872,  the  day  before  Whitsunday. 


16    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1872 

VII. 

"Woodbridge  :  August  9,  [1872.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  think  I  shall  hear  from  you  once  again 
before  you  go  abroad.  To  Rome !  My  Brother 
Peter  also  is  going  to  winter  there :  but  you  would 
not  have  much  in  common  with  him,  I  think,  so  I 
say  nothing  of  an  Acquaintance  between  you. 

I  have  been  having  Frederick  Tennyson  with  me 
down  here.1  He  has  come  to  England  (from  Jersey 
where  his  home  now  is)  partly  on  Business,  and  partly 
to  bring  over  a  deaf  old  Gentleman  who  has  dis- 
covered the  Original  Mystery  of  Free-masonry,  by 
means  of  Spiritualism.  The  Freemasons  have  for 
Ages  been  ignorant,  it  seems,  of  the  very  Secret 
which  all  their  Emblems  and  Signs  refer  to  :  and  the 
question  is,  if  they  care  enough  for  their  own  Mystery 
to  buy  it  of  this  ancient  Gentleman.  If  they  do  not, 
he  will  shame  them  by  Publishing  it  to  all  the  world. 
Frederick  Tennyson,  who  has  long  been  a  Svveden- 
borgian,  a  Spiritualist,  and  is  now  even  himself  a 
Medium,  is  quite  grand  and  sincere  in  this  as  in  all 
else  :  with  the  Faith  of  a  Gigantic  Child — pathetic 
and  yet  humorous  to  consider  and  consort  with. 

I  went  to  Sydenham  for  two  days  to  visit  the 
Brother  I  began  telling  you  of:  and,  at  a  hasty  visit 
to  the  Royal  Academy,  caught  a  glimpse  of  Annie 

1  F.  T.  came  August  1st,  1872. 


1872]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  17 

Thackeray  : 1  who  had  first  caught  a  glimpse  of  me, 
and  ran  away  from  her  Party  to  seize  the  hands  of 
her  Father's  old  friend.  I  did  not  know  her  at  first : 
was  half  overset  by  her  cordial  welcome  when  she 
told  me  who  she  was ;  and  made  a  blundering  business 
of  it  altogether.  So  much  so,  that  I  could  not  but 
write  afterwards  to  apologize  to  her :  and  she  returned 
as  kind  an  Answer  as  she  had  given  a  Greeting  : 
telling  me  that  my  chance  Apparition  had  been  to 
her  as  *  A  message  from  Papa.'  It  was  really  some- 
thing to  have  been  of  so  much  importance. 

I  keep  intending  to  go  out  somewhere — if  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  my  rooms  here  may  be  cleaned  ! 
which  they  will  have  it  should  be  done  once  a  year. 
Perhaps  I  may  have  to  go  to  my  old  Field  of  Naseby, 
where  Carlyle  wants  me  to  erect  a  Stone  over  the 
spot  where  I  dug  up  some  remains  of  those  who  were 
slain  there  over  two  hundred  years  ago,  for  the  purpose 
of  satisfying  him  in  his  Cromwell  History.  This  has 
been  a  fixed  purpose  of  his  these  twenty  years :  I 
thought  it  had  dropped  from  his  head :  but  it  cropped 
up  again  this  Spring,  and  I  do  not  like  to  neglect 
such  wishes.     Ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

1  See  'Letters,'  ii.  142-3. 


18    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

VIII. 

April 22,  [1873.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

One  last  word  about  what  you  call  my 
'  Half-invitation  '  to  Woodbridge.  In  one  sense  it 
is  so ;  but  not  in  the  sense  you  imagine. 

I  never  do  invite  any  of  my  oldest  Friends  to  come 
and  see  me,  am  almost  distressed  at  their  proposing 
to  do  so.  If  they  take  me  in  their  way  to,  or  from, 
elsewhere  (as  Donne  in  his  Norfolk  Circuit)  it  is 
another  matter. 

But  I  have  built  a  pleasant  house  just  outside  the 
Town,  where  I  never  live  myself,  but  keep  it  mainly 
for  some  Nieces  who  come  there  for  two  or  three 
months  in  the  Summer :  and,  when  they  are  not 
there,  for  any  Friends  who  like  to  come,  for  the 
Benefit  of  fresh  Air  and  Verdure,  plus  the  company 
of  their  Host.  An  Artist  and  his  Wife  have  stayed 
there  for  some  weeks  for  the  last  two  years ;  and 
Donne  and  Valentia  were  to  have  come,  but  that 
they  went  abroad  instead. 

And  so,  while  I  should  even  deprecate  a  Lady  like 
you  coming  thus  far  only  for  my  sake,  who  ought 
rather  to  go  and  ask  Admission  at  your  Door,  I  should 
be  glad  if  you  liked  to  come  to  my  house  for  the 
double  purpose  aforesaid. 

My  Nieces  have  hitherto  come  to  me  from  July 


1873]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  19 

to  September  or  October.  Since  I  wrote  to  you,  they 
have  proposed  to  come  on  May  2 1 ;  though  it  may 
be  somewhat  later,  as  suits  the  health  of  the  Invalid — 
who  lives  on  small  means  with  her  elder  Sister,  who 
is  her  Guardian  Angel.  I  am  sure  that  no  friend  of 
mine — and  least  of  all  you — would  dissent  from  my 
making  them  my  first  consideration.  I  never  ask 
them  in  Winter,  when  I  think  they  are  better  in  a 
Town :  which  Town  has,  since  their  Father's  Death, 
been  Lowestoft,  where  I  see  them  from  time  to  time. 
Their  other  six  sisters  (one  only  married)  live  else- 
where :  all  loving  one  another,  notwithstanding. 

Well :  I  have  told  you  all  I  meant  by  my  '  Half- 
Invitation.'  These  N.E.  winds  are  less  inviting  than 
I  to  these  parts ;  but  I  and  my  House  would  be  very 
glad  to  entertain  you  to  our  best  up  to  the  End  of 
May,  if  you  really  liked  to  see  Woodbridge  as  welL 
as  yours  always  truly 

E.  F.G. 

P.S. — You  tell  me  that,  once  returned  to  America, 
you  think  you  will  not  return  ever  again  to  England. 
But  you  will — if  only  to  revisit  those  at  Kenil worth — 
yes,  and  the  blind  Lady  you  are  soon  going  to  see 
in  Ireland1 — and  two  or  three  more  in  England 
beside — yes,  and  old  England  itself,  'with  all  her 
faults.' 

By  the  by : — Some  while  ago 2  Carlyle  sent  me  a 

1  Miss  Harriet  St.  Leger. 

2  April  14th,  1873.     See  '  Letters,'  ii.  154. 


20    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD   [1873 

Letter  from  an  American  gentleman  named  Norton 
(once  of  the  N.  American  Review,  C.  says,  and  a 
most  amiable,  intelligent  Gentleman) — whose  Letter 
enclosed  one  from  Ruskin,  which  had  been  entrusted 
to  another  American  Gentleman  named  Burne  Jones 
— who  kept  it  in  a  Desk  ten  years,  and  at  last  for- 
warded it  as  aforesaid — to  me !  The  Note  (of 
Ruskin' s)  is  about  one  of  the  Persian  Translations  : 
almost  childish,  as  that  Man  of  Genius  is  apt  to  be 
in  his  Likes  as  well  as  Dislikes.  I  dare  say  he  has 
forgotten  all  about  Translator  and  Original  long  before 
this.  I  wrote  to  thank  Mr.  Norton  for 
{Letter  unfinished, ) 


IX. 

[1873O 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

It  is  scarce  fair  to  assail  you  on  your  return 
to  England  with  another  Letter  so  close  on  that  to 
which  you  have  only  just  answered — you  who  will 
answer!  I  wish  you  would  consider  this  Letter  of 
mine  an  Answer  (as  it  really  is)  to  that  last  of  yours  ; 
and  before  long  I  will  write  again  and  call  on  you 
then  for  a  Reply. 

What  inspires  me  now  is,  that,  about  the  time  you 
were  writing  to  me  about  Burns  and  Beranger,  I  was 
thinking  of  them  '  which  was  the  Greater  Genius  ? ' — 


1873]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  21 

I  can't  say;  but,  with  all  my  Admiration  for  about 
a  Score  of  the  Frenchman's  almost  perfect  Songs, 
I  would  give  all  of  them  up  for  a  Score  of  Burns' 
Couplets,  Stanzas,  or  single  Lines  scattered  among 
those  quite  ////perfect  Lyrics  of  his.  Beranger,  no 
doubt,  was  The  Artist ;  which  still  is  not  the  highest 
Genius — witness  Shakespeare,  Dante,  /Eschylus,  Cal- 
deron,  to  the  contrary.  Burns  assuredly  had  more 
Passion  than  the  Frenchman ;  which  is  not  Genius 
either,  but  a  great  Part  of  the  Lyric  Poet  still.  What 
Be'ranger  might  have  been,  if  born  and  bred  among 
Banks,  Braes,  and  Mountains,  I  cannot  tell :  Burns 
had  that  advantage  over  him.  And  then  the  High- 
land Mary  to  love,  amid  the  heather,  as  compared  to 
Lise  the  Grisette  in  a  Parisian  Suburb  !  Some  of  the 
old  French  Virelays  and  Vaux-de-vire  come  much 
nearer  the  Wild  Notes  of  Burns,  and  go  to  one's 
heart  like  his;  Beranger  never  gets  so  far  as  that, 
I  think.  One  knows  he  will  come  round  to  his  pretty 
refrain  with  perfect  grace ;  if  he  were  more  Inspired 
he  couldn't. 

*  My  Love  is  like  the  red,  red,  Rose 
That's  newly  sprung  in  June, 
My  Love  is  like  the  Melody 
That's  sweetly  play'd  in  tune.' 

and  he  will  love  his  Love, 

'  Till  a'  the  Seas  gang  Dry  ' 
Yes — Till  a'  the  Seas  gang  dry,  my  Dear.     And  then 


22    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

comes  some  weaker  stuff  about  Rocks  melting  in  the 
Sun.  All  Imperfect;  but  that  red,  red  Rose  has 
burned  itself  into  one's  silly  Soul  in  spite  of  all.  Do 
you  know  that  one  of  Burns'  few  almost  perfect  stanzas 
was  perfect  till  he  added  two  Syllables  to  each 
alternate  Line  to  fit  it  to  the  lovely  Music  which 
almost  excuses  such  a  dilution  of  the  Verse. 

'  Ye  Banks  and  Braes  o'  bonnie  Doon, 

How  can  ye  bloom  (so  fresh)  so  fair  ? 
Ye  little  Birds  how  can  ye  sing, 

And  I  so  (weary)  full  of  care  ! 
Thou'lt  break  my  heart,  thou  little  Bird, 

That  sings  (singest  so)  upon  the  Thorn : 
Thou  minds  me  of  departed  days 

That  never  shall  return 

(Departed  never  to)  return.' 

Now  I  shall  tell  you  two  things  which  my  last  Quota- 
tion has  recalled  to  me. 

Some  thirty  years  ago  A.  Tennyson  went  over 
Burns'  Ground  in  Dumfries.  When  he  was  one  day 
by  Doon-side — '  I  can't  tell  how  it  was,  Fitz,  but  I 
fell  into  a  Passion  of  Tears  ' — And  A.  T.  not  given  to 
the  melting  mood  at  all. 

No.  2.  My  friend  old  Childs  of  the  romantic  town 
of  Bungay  (if  you  can  believe  in  it !)  told  me  that  one 
day  he  started  outside  the  Coach  in  company  with  a 
poor  Woman  who  had  just  lost  Husband  or  Child. 
She  talked  of  her  Loss  and  Sorrow  with  some  Resig- 
nation :  till  the  Coach  happened   to  pull   up  by  a 


1873]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  23 

roadside  Inn.  A  '  little  Bird '  was  singing  some- 
where ;  the  poor  Woman  then  broke  into  Tears,  and 
said — '  I  could  bear  anything  but  that.'  I  dare  say 
she  had  never  even  heard  of  Burns :  but  he  had 
heard  the  little  Bird  that  he  knew  would  go  to  all 
Hearts  in  Sorrow. 

Beranger's  Morals  are  Virtue  as  compared  to  what 
have  followed  him  in  France.  Yet  I  am  afraid  he 
partly  led  the  way.  Burns'  very  Passion  half  excused 
him ;  so  far  from  its  being  Refinement  which  Burke 
thought  deprived  Vice  of  half  its  Mischief ! 

Here  is  a  Sermon  for  you,  you  see,  which  you  did 
not  compound  for :  nor  I  neither  when  I  began  my 
Letter.  But  I  think  I  have  told  you  the  two  Stories 
aforesaid  which  will  almost  deprive  my  sermon  of 
half  its  Dulness.  And  I  am  now  going  to  transcribe 
you  a  Van-de-vire  of  old  Olivier  de  Basselin,1  which 
will  show  you  something  of  that  which  I  miss  in 
Beranger.  But  I  think  I  had  better  write  it  on  a 
separate  Paper.     Till  which,  what  think  you  of  these 

1  Probably  the  piece  beginning  : — 

'  On  plante  des  pommiers  es  bords 
Des  cimitieres,  pres  des  morts,'  &c. 

Olivier  Basselin  ('  Vaux-de-Vire,'  ed.  Jacob,  1858,  xv.  p.  28). 

On  Oct.  13th,  1879,  FitzGerald  wrote  of  a  copy  of  Olivier  (ed.  Du 
Bois,  1821)  which  he  had  sent  by  me  to  Professor  Cowell :  "If 
Cowell  does  not  care  for  Olivier— the  dear  Phantom  !— pray  do  you 
keep  him.  Read  a  little  piece— the  two  first  Stanzas— beginning  : 
'  Dieu  garde  de  deshonneur,"  p.  184— quite  beautiful  to  me  ;  though 
not  classed  as  Olivier's.  Also  '  Royne  des  Flours,  &c.,'  p.  160. 
These  are  things  that  Beranger  could  not  reach  with  all  his  Art  : 
but  Burns  could  without  it." 


24    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

lines  of  Clement  Marot  on  the  Death  of  some  French 
Princess  who  desired  to  be  buried  among  the  Poor  ? x 

[P.S. — These  also  must  go  on  the  Fly-leaf:  being 
too  long,  Alexandrine,  for  these  Pages.] 

What  a  Letter?  But  if  you  are  still  at  your 
Vicarage,  you  can  read  it  in  the  Intervals  of  Church. 
I  was  surprised  at  your  coming  so  early  from  Italy  : 
the  famous  Holy  Week  there  is  now,  I  suppose, 
somewhat  shorn  of  its  Glory. — If  you  were  not  so 
sincere  I  should  think  you  were  persiflaging  me  about 
the  Photo,  as  applied  ito  myself,  and  yourself.  Some 
years  ago  I  said — and  now]say — I  wanted  one  of  you ; 
and  if  this  letter  were  not  so  long,  would  tell  you  a 
little  how  to  sit.  Which  you  would  not  attend  to; 
but  I  should  be  all  the  same,  your  long-winded  Friend 

E.  F.G. 


X. 

Woodbridge,  May  1,  [1873.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  will  be  Photo- 
graphed :  though  not  by  thej  Ipswich  Man  who  did 
me,  there  are  no  doubt  many  much  better  in  London. 

1  De  Damoyselle  Anne  de  Marie  (Marot,  'Cimetiere,'  xiv. ) : — 
'  Lors  sans  viser  au  lieu  dont  elle  vint, 
Et  desprisant  la  gloire  que  Ton  a 
En  ce  bas  monde,  icelle  Anne  ordonna, 
Que  son  corps  fust  entre  les  pauures  mys 
En  cette  fosse.     Or  prions,  chers  amys, 
Que  l'ame  soit  entre  les  pauures  mise, 
Qui  bien  heureux  sont  chantez  en  l'Eglise.' 


1 873]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  25 

Of  course  the  whole  Figure  is  best,  if  it  can  be 
artistically  arranged.  But  certainly  the  safe  plan  is  to 
venture  as  little  as  possible  when  an  Artist's  hand 
cannot  harmonize  the  Lines  and  the  Lights,  as  in  a 
Picture.  And  as  the  Face  is  the  Chief  Object,  I  say 
the  safest  thing  is  to  sit  for  the  Face,  neck,  and 
Shoulders  only.  By  this,  one  not  only  avoids  any 
conflict  about  Arms  and  Hands  (which  generally 
disturb  the  Photo),  but  also  the  Lines  and  Lights  of 
Chair,  Table,  etc. 

For  the  same  reason,  I  vote  for  nothing  but  a  plain 
Background,  like  a  Curtain,  or  sober-coloured  Wall. 

I  think  also  that  there  should  be  no  White  in  the 
Dress,  which  is  apt  to  be  too  positive  for  the  Face. 
Nothing  nearer  White  than  such  material  as  (I  think) 
Brussels  Lace  (?)  of  a  yellowish  or  even  dirty  hue ;  of 
which  there  may  be  a  Fringe  between  Dress  and 
Skin.  I  have  advised  Men  Friends  to  sit  in  a — dirty 
Shirt ! 

I  think  a  three-quarter  face  is  better  than  a  Full ; 
for  one  reason,  that  I  think  the  Sitter  feels  more  at 
ease  looking  somewhat  away,  rather  than  direct  at 
the  luminous  Machine.  This  will  suit  you,  who  have 
a  finely  turned  Head,  which  is  finely  placed  on  Neck 
and  Shoulders.  But,  as  your  Eyes  are  fine  also,  don't 
let  them  be  turned  too  much  aside,  nor  at  all  down- 
cast :  but  simply  looking  as  to  a  Door  or  Window  a 
little  on  one  side. 

Lastly  (!)  I  advise  sitting  in  a  lightly  clouded  Day  ; 
not  in  a  bright  Sunlight  at  all. 


r*        of  • 
TJNIVER, 

■liforhV^ 


26    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

You  will  think  that  I  am  preaching  my  own  Photo 
to  you.  And  it  is  true  that,  though  I  did  not  sit  with 
any  one  of  these  rules  in  my  head ;  but  just  as  I  got 
out  of  a  Cab,  etc.,  yet  the  success  of  the  Thing  made 
me  consider  afterward  why  it  succeeded  ;  and  I  have 
now  read  you  my  Lecture  on  the  Subject.  Pray  do 
not  forgo  your  Intention — nay,  your  Promise,  as  I 
regard  it — to  sit,  and  send  me  the  result.1 

1  On  March  30, 1873,  FitzGerald  wrote  to  Sir  Frederick  Pcllock  : — 
"  At  the  beginning  of  this  year  I  submitted  to  be  Photo'ed  at  last 
— for  many  Nieces,  and  a  few  old  Friends — I  must  think  that  you 
are  an  old  Friend  as  well  as  a  very  kind  and  constant  one  ;  and  so  1 
don't  like  not  to  send  you  what  I  have  sent  others. — The  Artist  who 
took  me,  took  (as  he  always  does)  three  several  Views  of  one's 
Face  :  but  the  third  View  (looking  full-faced)  got  blurred  by  my 
blinking  at  the  Light  :  so  only  these  two  were  reproduced — I 
shouldn't  know  that  either  was  meant  for  [me]  :  nor,  I  think, 
would  any  one  else,  if  not  told  :  but  the  Truth-telling  Sun  somehow 
did  them  ;  and  as  he  acted  so  handsomely  by  me,  I  take  courage 
to  distribute  them  to  those  who  have  a  regard  for  me,  and  will 
naturally  like  to  have  so  favourable  a  Version  of  one's  Outward 
Aspect  to  remember  one  by.  I  should  not  have  sent  them  if  they 
had  been  otherwise.  The  up-looking  one  I  call  '  The  Statesman,' 
quite  ready  to  be  called  to  the  Helm  of  Affairs  :  the  Down-looking 
one  I  call  The  Philosopher.  Will  you  take  which  you  like  ?  And 
when  next  old  Spedding  comes  your  way,  give  him  the  other  (he 
won't  care  which)  with  my  Love.  I  only  don't  write  to  him  because 
my  doing  so  would  impose  on  his  Conscience  an  Answer — which 
would  torment  him  for  some  little  while.  I  do  not  love  him 
the  less  :  and  believe  all  the  while  that  he  not  the  less  regards  me." 

Again  on  May  5,  he  wrote  :  "  I  think  I  shall  have  a  word  about 
M  [acreadyl  from  Mrs.  Kemble,  with  whom  I  have  been  correspond- 
ing a  little  since  her  return  to  England.  She  has  lately  been  staying 
with  her  Son  in  Law,  Mr.  Leigh  (?),  at  Stoneleigh  Vicarage,  near 
Kenilworth.  In  the  Autumn  she  says  she  will  go  to  America, 
never  to  return  to  England.  But  I  tell  her  she  will  return.  She  is 
to  sit  for  her  Photo  at  my  express  desire,  and  I  have  given  her 
Instructions  how  to  sit,  derived  from  my  own  successful  Experience. 
One  rule  is  to  sit — in  a  dirty  Shirt — (to  avoid  dangerous  White)  and 


1873]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  27 

Here  has  been  a  bevy  of  Letters,  and  long  ones, 
from  me,  you  see.  I  don't  know  if  it  is  reasonable 
that  one  should  feel  it  so  much  easier  to  write  to  a 
Friend  in  England  than  to  the  same  Friend  abroad  ; 
but  so  it  is,  with  me  at  least.  I  suppose  that  a  Letter 
directed  to  Stoneleigh  will  find  you  before  you  leave 
— for  America  ! — and  even  after  that.  But  I  shall  not 
feel  the  same  confidence  and  ease  in  transcribing  for 
you  pretty  Norman  Songs,  or  gossiping  about  them  as 
I  have  done  when  my  Letters  were  only  to  travel  to 
Kenilworth  :  which  very  place — which  very  name  of 
a  Place — makes  the  English  world  akin.  I  suppose 
you  have  been  at  Stratford  before  this — an  event  in 
one's  Life.  It  was  not  the  Town  itself — or  even  the 
Church — that  touched  me  most :  but  the  old  Foot- 
paths over  the  Fields  which  He  must  have  crossed 
three  Centuries  ago. 

Spedding  tells  me   he   is   nearing    Land  with  his 
Bacon.     And  one  begins  to  think  Macready  a  Great 
Man  amid  the  Dwarfs  that  now  occupy  his  Place. 
Ever  yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


another  is,  not  to  sit  on  a  Sunshiny  Day  :  which  we  must  leave  to 
the  Young. 

"By  the  by,  I  sent  old  Spedding  my  own  lovely  Photo  {the 
Statesman)  which  he  has  acknowledged  in  Autograph.  He  tells 
me  that  he  begins  to  '  smell  Land '  with  his  Bacon." 


28    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD   [1873 

XI. 

September  18/73. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  have  not  forgotten  you  at  all,  all  these 
months — What  a  Consolation  to  you  !  But  I  felt  I 
had  nothing  to  send  among  the  Alps  after  you :  I 
have  been  nowhere  but  for  two  Days  to  the  Field  of 
Naseby  in  Northamptonshire,  where  I  went  to  identify 
the  spot  where  I  dug  up  the  Dead  for  Carlyle  thirty 
years  ago.  I  went ;  saw  ;  made  sure ;  and  now — 
the  Trustees  of  the  Estate  won't  let  us  put  up  the 
Memorial  stone  we  proposed  to  put  up  ;  they  approve 
(we  hear)  neither  of  the  Stone,  nor  the  Inscription ; 
both  as  plain  and  innocent  as  a  Milestone,  says 
Carlyle,  and  indeed  much  of  the  same  Nature.  This 
Decision  of  the  foolish  Trustees  I  only  had  some  ten 
days  ago  :  posted  it  to  Carlyle  who  answered  from 
Dumfries ;  and  his  Answer  shows  that  he  is  in  full 
Vigour,  though  (as  ever  since  I  have  known  him)  he 
protests  that  Travelling  has  utterly  discomfited  him, 
and  he  will  move  no  more.  But  it  is  very  silly  of 
these  Trustees.1 

And,  as  I  have  been  nowhere,  I  have  seen  no  one ; 
nor  read  anything  but  the  Tichbome  Trial,  and  some 
of  my  old  Books — among  them  Walpole,  Wesley,  and 
Johnson  (Boswell,  I  mean),  three  very  different  men 
whose  Lives  extend  over  the  same  times,  and  whose 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  165-7. 


1873]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  29 

diverse  ways  of  looking  at  the  world  they  lived  in 
make  a  curious  study.  I  wish  some  one  would  write 
a  good  Paper  on  this  subject ;  I  don't  mean  to  hint 
that  I  am  the  man;  on  the  contrary,  I  couldn't  at 
all ;  but  I  could  supply  some  [one]  else  with  some 
material  that  he  would  not  care  to  hunt  up  in  the 
Books  perhaps. 

Well :  all  this  being  all,  I  had  no  heart  to  write — to 
the  Alps  !  And  now  I  remember  well  you  told  me 
you  [were]  coming  back  to  England — for  a  little 
while — a  little  while — and  then  to  the  New  World  for 
ever — which  I  don't  believe ! *  Oh  no  !  you  will  come 
back  in  spite  of  yourself,  depend  upon  it — and  yet  I 
doubt  that  my  saying  so  will  be  one  little  reason  why 
you  will  not !  But  do  let  me  hear  of  you  first :  and 
believe  me  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

XII. 

[WOODBRIDGE,  1873.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

You  must  attribute  this  third  Letter  to  an 
'Idee*  that  has  come  into  my  head  relating  to  those 
Memoirs  of  yourself  which  you  say  you  are  at  some 
loss  to  dispose  of.  I  can  easily  understand  that  your 
Children,  born  and  bred  (I  think)  in  another  World, 
would  not  take  so  much  interest  in  them  as  some  of 
your  old  Friends  who  make  part  of  your  Recollections : 
1  See  letter  of  April  22nd,  1873. 


30    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

as  you  yourself  occupy  much  of  theirs.  But  then  they 
are  old  Friends ;  and  are  not  their  Children,  Executors 
and  Assigns,  as  little  to  be  depended  on  as  your  own 
Kith  and  Kin  ?  Well  \  I  bethink  me  of  one  of  your 
old  Friends'  Children  whom  I  could  reckon  upon  for 
you,  as  I  would  for  myself :  Mowbray  Donne  :  the 
Son  of  one  who  you  know  loves  you  of  old,  and 
inheriting  all  his  Father's  Loyalty  to  his  Father's 
Friends.  I  am  quite  convinced  that  he  is  to  be 
perfectly  depended  upon  in  all  respects  for  this  pur- 
pose ;  for  his  Love,  his  Honour,  and  his  Intelligence. 
I  should  then  make  him  one  day  read  the  Memoirs 
to  me — for  I  can't  be  assured  of  my  own  Eyes  inter- 
preting your  MS.  without  so  much  difficulty  as  would 
disturb  one's  Enjoyment,  or  Appreciation,  of  such  a 
Memoir.  Unless  indeed  you  should  one  day  come 
down  yourself  to  my  Chateau  in  dull  Woodbridge,  and 
there  read  it  over,  and  talk  it  over. 

Well;  this  is  what  I  seriously  advise,  always  sup- 
posing that  you  have  decided  not  to  print  and  publish 
the  Memoir  during  your  Life.  No  doubt  you  could 
make  money  of  it,  beside  '  bolting  up ' x  such  Accident 
as  the  Future  comprehends.  The  latter  would,  I 
know,  be  the  only  recommendation  to  you. 

I  don't  think  you  will  do  at  all  as  I  advise  you- 
But  I  nevertheless  advise  you  as  I  should  myself  in 
case  I  had  such  a  Record  as  you  have  to  leave 
behind  me. — 

1  Shakespeare,  Ant.  &  CI.,  v.  2,  line  6  :— 

'  Which  shackles  accidents,  and  bolts  up  change.' 


1873]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  31 

Now  once  more  for  French  Songs.  When  I  was  in 
Paris  in  1830,  just  before  that  Revolution,  I  stopped 
one  Evening  on  the  Boulevards  by  the  Madeleine 
to  listen  to  a  Man  who  was  singing  to  his  Barrel-organ. 
Several  passing  '  Blouses '  had  stopped  also  :  not  only 
to  listen,  but  to  join  in  the  Songs,  having  bought  little 
'  Libretti '  of  the  words  from  the  Musician.  I  bought 
one  too ;  for,  I  suppose,  the  smallest  French  Coin ; 
and  assisted  in  the  Song  which  the  Man  called  out 
beforehand  (as  they  do  Hymns  at  Church),  and  of 
which  I  enclose  you  the  poor  little  Copy.  '  Le  Bon 
Pasteur,  s'il  vous  plait ' — I  suppose  the  Circumstances : 
the  'beau  temps,'  the  pleasant  Boulevards,  the  then 
so  amiable  People,  all  contributed  to  the  effect  this 
Song  had  upon  me ;  anyhow,  it  has  constantly  revisited 
my  memory  for  these  forty-three  years ;  and  I  was 
thinking,  the  other  day,  touched  me  more  than  any  of 
Beranger's  most  beautiful  Things.  This,  however, 
may  be  only  one  of  '  Old  FitzV  Crotchets,  as  Tennyson 
and  others  would  call  them.1 

I  have  been  trying  again  at  another  Great  Artist's 

1  In  his  '  Half  Hours  with  the  Worst  Authors '  FitzGerald  has 
transcribed  '  Le  Bon  Pasteur,'  which  consists  of  five  stanzas  of  eight 
each,  beginning  : — 

'  Bons  habitans  de  ce  Village, 
Pretez  l'oreille  un  moment, '  &c. 
Each  stanza  ends  : — 

'  Et  le  bon  Dieu  vous  benira.' 
He  adds :  '  One  of  the   pleasantest  remembrances  of  France   is, 
having  heard   this  sung  to  a   Barrel-organ,  and  chorus'd   by  the 
Hearers  (who  had  bought  the  Song-books)  one  fine  Evening  on  the 
Paris  Boulevards,  June  :  1830.' 


32    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

work  which  I  never  could  care  for  at  all,  Goethe's 
Faust,  in  Hay  ward's  Prose  Translation;  EigMh 
Edition.  Hayward  quotes  from  Goethe  himself,  that, 
though  of  course  much  of  a  Poem  must  evaporate 
in  a  Prose  Translation,  yet  the  Essence  must  remain. 
Well ;  I  distinguish  as  little  of  that  Essential  Poetry  in 
the  Faust  now  as  when  I  first  read  it — longer  ago  than 
'  Le  Bon  Pasteur]  and  in  other  subsequent  Attempts. 
I  was  tempted  to  think  this  was  some  Defect — great 
Defect — in  myself:  but  a  Note  at  the  end  of  the 
Volume  informs  me  that  a  much  greater  Wit  than  I 
was  in  the  same  plight — even  Coleridge ;  who  admires 
the  perfect  German  Diction,  the  Songs,  Choruses, 
etc.  (which  are  such  parts  as  cannot  be  translated 
into  Prose) ;  he  also  praises  Margaret  and  Mephis- 
topheles  ;  but  thinks  Faust  himself  dull,  and  great 
part  of  the  Drama  flat  and  tiresome  ;  and  the  whole 
Thing  not  a  self-evolving  Whole,  but  an  unconnected 
Series  of  Scenes:  all  which  are  parts  that  can  be 
judged  of  from  Translation,  by  Goethe's  own  Authority. 
I  find  a  great  want  of  Invention  and  Imagination  both 
in  the  Events  and  Characters. 

Gervinus'  Theory  of  Hamlet  is  very  striking.  Per- 
haps Shakespeare  himself  would  have  admitted, 
without  ever  having  expressly  designed,  it.  I  always 
said  with  regard  to  the  Explanation  of  Hamlet's 
Madness  or  Sanity,  that  Shakespeare  himself  might 
not  have  known  the  Truth  any  more  than  we  under- 
stand the  seeming  Discords  we  see  in  People  we 
know  best.      Shakespeare  intuitively  imagined,  and 


1 873]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  33 

portrayed,  the  Man  without  being  able  to  give  a 
reason — perhaps — I  believe  in  Genius  doing  this  :  and 
remain  your  Inexhaustible  Correspondent, 

E.  F.G. 
Excuse  this  very  bad  writing,  which  I  have  gone 
over  'with  the  pen  of  Correction,'  and  would  have 
wholly  re-written  if  my  Eyes  were  not  be-glared  with 
the  Sun  on  the  River.  You  need  only  read  the  first 
part  about  Donne. 


XIII. 

[1873-] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Had  you  but  written  your  Dublin  Address 
in  full,  I  should  have  caught  you  before  you  left.  As 
you  did  not,  I  follow  your  Directions,  and  enclose  to 
Coutts. 

You  see  which  of  the  three  Photos  I  prefer — and 
very  much  prefer — by  the  two  which  I  return  :  I  am 
very  much  obliged  to  you  indeed  for  taking  all  the 
Trouble;  and  the  Photo  I  have  retained  is  very 
satisfactory  to  me  in  every  respect  :  as  I  believe 
you  will  find  it  to  be  to  such  other  Friends  as  you 
would  give  a  Copy  to.  I  can  fancy  that  this  Photo 
is  a  fair  one ;  I  mean,  a  fair  Likeness  :  one  of  the  full 
Faces  was  nearly  as  good  to  me,  but  for  the  darkness 
of  the  Lips — that  common  default  in  these  things — 
but  the  other  dark  Fullface  is  very  unfair  indeed. 
You  must  give  Copies  to  dear  old  Donne,  and  to  one 

3 


34    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

or  two  others,  and  I  should  like  to  hear  from  you 
[before  you]  leave  England  which  they  prefer. 

It  was  indeed  so  unlike  your  obstinate  habit  of 
Reply — this  last  exception — that  I  thought  you  must 
be  ill ;  and  I  was  really  thinking  of  writing  to  Mr. 
Leigh  to  ask  about  you — I  have  been  ailing  myself 
with  some  form  of  Rheumatism — whether  Lumbago, 
Sciatica,  or  what  not — which  has  made  my  rising  up 
and  sitting  down  especially  uncomfortable  ;  Country 
Doctor  quite  incompetent,  etc.  But  the  Heavenly 
Doctor,  Phcebus,  seems  more  efficient — especially  now 
he  has  brought  the  Wind  out  of  N.E. 

I  had  meant  to  send  you  the  Air  of  the  Bon 
Pasteur  when  I  sent  the  words  :  I  never  heard  it  but 
that  once,  but  I  find  that  the  version  you  send  me  is 
almost  identical  with  my  Recollection  of  it.  There  is 
little  merit  in  the  Tune,  except  the  pleasant  resort 
to  the  Major  at  the  two  last  Verses.  I  can  now  hear 
the  Organist's  burr  at  the  closing  '  Benira.' 

I  happened  the  other  day  on  some  poor  little 
Verses1  which  poor  Hay  don  found  of  his  poor  Wife's 
writing  in  the  midst  of  the  Distress  from  which  he 
extricated  himself  so  suddenly.  And  I  felt  how  these 
poor    Verses    touched    me    far    more   than    any   of 

1  Haydon  entered  these  verses  in  his  Diary  for  May,  1846  :  '  The 
struggle  is  severe  ;  for  myself  I  care  not,  but  for  her  so  dear  to  me  I 
feel.  It  presses  on  her  mind  ;  and  in  a  moment  of  pain,  she  wrote 
the  following  simple  bit  of  feeling  to  Frederick,  who  is  in  South 
America,  on  Board  The  Grecian.'  There  are  seven  stanzas  in  the 
original,  but  FitzGerald  has  omitted  in  his  transcript  the  third  and 
fourth  and  slightly  altered  one  or  two  of  the  lines.  He  called  them 
,  A  poor  Mother's  Verses.' 


iS73]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  35 

Beranger's — though  scarcely  more  than  many  of 
Burns'.  I  know  that  the  Story  which  they  involve 
appeals  more  to  one's  heart  than  the  Frenchman 
does ;  but  I  am  also  sure  that  his  perfect  Art  injures, 
and  not  assists,  the  utterance  of  Nature.  I  transcribe 
these  poor  Verses  for  you,  as  you  may  not  have  the 
Book  at  hand,  and  yet  I  think  you  will  thank  me  for 
recalling  them  to  you.  I  find  them  in  a  MS.  Book  I 
have  which  I  call  '  Half  Hours  with  the  Worst 
Authors,'1  and  if  People  would  believe  that  I  know 
what  is  good  for  them  in  these  matters,  the  Book 
would  make  a  very  good  one  for  the  Public.  But  if 
People  don't  see  as  I  do  by  themselves,  they  wouldn't 
any  the  more  for  my  telling  them,  not  having  any 
Name  to  bid  their  Attention.  So  my  Bad  Authors 
must  be  left  to  my  Heirs  and  Assigns  ;  as  your  Good 
Memoirs  ! 

On  second  Thoughts,  I  shall  (in  spite  of  your 
Directions)  keep  two  of  the  Photos :  returning  you 
only  the  hateful  dark  one.  That  is,  I  shall  keep  the 
twain,  unless  you  desire  me  to  return  you  one  of  them. 
Anyhow,  do  write  to  me  before  you  go  quite  away, 
and  believe  me  always  yours 

E.  F.G. 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  280. 


36    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

XIV. 

Woodbridge:  Novr.  18/73. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  should  have  written  to   you   before,  but 

that  I  was  waiting  for  some  account,   for  better  or 

worse,  of  our  friend  Donne ;  who  has  been  seriously 

ill  this  Fortnight  and  more.     I  don't  know  what  his 

original  Ailment  was,  unless  a  Cold  ;  but  the  Effect 

has  been  to  leave  him  so  weak,  that  even  now  the 

Doctor  fears  for  any  Relapse  which  he  might  not  be 

strong  enough  to  bear.     He  had  been  for  a  Visit  to 

friends   in   the   West   of  England :    and   became   ill 

directly  he  returned  to  London.     You  may  think  it 

odd  I  don't  know  what  was  his  Illness ;  but  Mowbray, 

who  has  told  me  all  I  know,  did  not  tell  me  that : 

and  so  I  did  not  ask,  as  I  could  do  no  good  by 

knowing.     Perhaps  it  is  simply  a  Decay,  or  Collapse, 

of  Body,  or  Nerves — or  even  Mind  : — a  Catastrophe 

which  I  never  thought  unlikely  with  Donne,  who  has 

toiled  and  suffered  so  much,  for  others  rather  than 

for  himself ;  and  keeping  all  his  Suffering  to  himself. 

He   wrote  me  a  letter  about  himself  a  week   ago ; 

cheerful,  and  telling  me  of  Books  he  read  :  so  as  no 

one  would  guess  he  was  so  ill;  but  a  Letter  from 

Mowbray  by  the  same  Post  told  me  he  was  still  in 

a  precarious  Condition.     I  had  wished  to  tell   you 

that  he  was  better,  if  not  well :  but  I  may  wait  some 

time  for  that :  and  so  I  will  write  now : — with  the 


1S73]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  37 

Promise  that  I  will  write  again  directly  there  is 
anything  else  to  tell. 

Here  my  Reader  comes  to  give  me  an  Instalment  of 
Tichborne  :  so  I  shall  shut  up,  perhaps  till  To-morrow. 

The  Lord  Chief  Justice  and  Co.  have  just  decided 
to  adjourn  the  Trial  for  ten  Days,  till  Witnesses 
arrive  from  your  side  of  the  Atlantic.  My  Reader 
has  just  adjourned  to  some  Cake  and  Porter — I  tell 
him  not  to  hurry — while  I  go  on  with  this  Letter. 
To  tell  you  that,  I  might  almost  have  well  adjourned 
writing  '  sine  die '  (can  you  construe  ?),  for  I  don't 
think  I  have  more  to  tell  you  now.  Only  that  I  am 
reading — Crabbe  !  And  I  want  you  to  tell  me  if  he 
is  read  on  that  side  of  the  Atlantic  from  which  we  are 
expecting  Tichborne  Witnesses. 

(Reader  finishes  Cake  and  Porter  :  and  we  now 
adjourn  to  'All  the  Year  Round.') 

10  p.m.  '  All  the  Year  Round'  read— part  of  it — 
and  Reader  departed. 

Pray  do  tell  me  if  any  one  reads  Crabbe  in  America ; 
nobody  does  here,  you  know,  but  myself;  who  bore 
about  it.  Does  Mrs.  Wister,  who  reads  many  things  ? 
Does  Mrs.  Kemble,  now  she  has  the  Atlantic  between 
her  and  the  old  Country  ? 

'  Over  the  Forth  I  look  to  the  North, 

But  what  is  the  North  and  its  Hielands  to  me  ? 

The  North  and  the  East  gie  small  ease  to  my  breast, 

The  far  foreign  land  and  the  wide  rolling  Sea.' l 

1  Burns,  quoted   from   memory  as  usual.     See    Globe   Edition, 
p.  214;  ed.  Cunningham,  iv.  293. 


38    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1873 

I  think  that  last  line  will  bring  the  Tears  into  Mrs. 
Kemble's  Eyes— which  I  can't  find  in  the  Photograph 
she  sent  me.     Yet  they  are  not  extinguisht,  surely  ? 

I  read  in  some  Athenosum  that  A.  Tennyson  was 
changing  his  Publisher  again  :  and  some  one  told  me 
that  it  was  in  consequence  of  the  resigning  Publisher 
having  lost  money  by  his  contract  with  the  Poet ; 
which  was,  to  pay  him  ^"iooo  per  Quarter  for  the 
exclusive  sale  of  his  Poems.  It  was  a  Woodbridge 
Literati  who  told  me  this,  having  read  it  in  a  Paper 
called  '  The  Publisher.'     More  I  know  not. 

A  little  more  such  stuff  I  might  write  :  but  I  think 
here  is  enough  of  it.  For  this  Night,  anyhow  :  so  I 
shall  lick  the  Ink  from  my  Pen ;  and  smoke  one  Pipe, 
not  forgetting  you  while  I  do  so ;  and  if  nothing  turns 
up  To-morrow,  here  is  my  Letter  done,  and  I  re- 
maining yours  always  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


XV. 

Woodbridge:  Nov.  24,  [1873.] 

Dear  Mrs.   Kemble, 

A  note  from  Mowbray  to-day  says  '  I  think 
I  can  report  the  Father  really  on  the  road  to  re- 
covery.' 

So,  as  I  think  you  will  be  as  glad  to  know  this  as 
I  am,  I  write  again  over  the  Atlantic.  And,  after  all, 
you  mayn't  be  over  the  Atlantic,  but  in  London 
itself !     Donne  would  have  told  me  :  but  I  don't  like 


1873]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE 

to  trouble  him  with  Questions,  or  writing  of  any  sort. 
If  you  be  in  London,  you  will  hear  somehow  of  all 
this  matter  :  if  in  America,  my  Letter  won't  go  in 
vain. 

Mowbray  wrote  me  some  while  ago  of  the  Death 
of  your  Sister's  Son  in  the  Hunting-field.1  Mowbray 
said,  aged  thirty,  I  think  :  I  had  no  idea,  so  old :  born 
when  I  was  with  Thackeray  in  Coram  Street — {Jorum 
Street,  he  called  it)  where  I  remember  Mrs.  Sartoris 
coming  in  her  Brougham  to  bid  him  to  Dinner,  1843. 

I  wrote  to  Annie  Thackeray  yesterday  :  politely 
telling  her  I  couldn't  relish  her  Old  Kensington  a 
quarter  as  much  as  her  Village  on  the  Cliff:  which, 
however,  I  doat  on.  I  still  purpose  to  read  Miss 
Evans  :  but  my  Instincts  are  against  her — I  mean, 
her  Books. 

What  have  you  done  with  your  Memoirs  ?  Pollock 
is  about  to  edit  Macready's.  And  Chorley — have 
you  read  him  ?  I  shall  devour  him  in  time — that  is, 
when  Mudie  will  let  me. 

I  wonder  if  there  are  Water-cresses  in  America,  as 
there  are  on  my  tea-table  while  I  write  ? 

What  do  you  think  of  these  two  lines  which  Crabbe 
didn't  print  ? 

'  The  shapeless  purpose  of  a  Soul  that  feels, 
And  half  suppresses  Wrath,2  and  half  reveals.' 

1  Greville  Sartoris  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse,  not  in  the 
hunting-field,  23  Oct.,  1873. 

2  '  Rage  '  in  the  original.  See  Tales  of  the  Hall,  Book  XII. 
Sir  Owen  Dale. 


40    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

My  little  bit  of  Good  News  about  our  Friend  is  the 
only  reason  and  Apology  for  this  Letter  from 

Yours  ever  and  always 

E.  KG. 


XVI. 

Lowestoft:  Febr.  10/74. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

A  Letter  to  be  written  to  you  from  the  room 
I  have  written  to  you  before  in  :  but  my  Letter  must 
wait  till  I  return  to  Woodbridge,  where  your  Address 
is  on  record.  I  have  thought  several  times  of  writing 
to  you  since  this  Year  began ;  but  I  have  been  in 
a  muddle — leaving  my  old  Markethill  Lodgings,  and 
vacillating  between  my  own  rather  lonely  Chateau, 
and  this  Place,  where  some  Nieces  are.  I  had  wished 
to  tell  you  what  I  know  of  our  dear  Donne :  who 
Mowbray  says  gets  on  still.  I  suppose  he  will  never 
be  so  strong  again.  Laurence  wrote  me  that  he  had 
met  him  in  the  Streets,  looking  thinner  (!)  with  (as  it 
were)  keener  Eyes.  That  is  a  Portrait  Painter's 
observation  :  probably  a  just  one.  Laurence  has  been 
painting  for  me  a  Copy  of  Pickersgill's  Portrait  of 
Crabbe — but  I  am  afraid  has  made  some  muddle  of 
it,  according  to  his  wont.  I  asked  for  a  Sketch :  he 
will  elaborate — and  spoil.  Instead  of  copying  the 
Colours  he  sees  and  could  simply  match  on  his  Palette, 
he  will  puzzle  himself  as  to  whether  the  Eyebrows 
were  once  sandy,  though  now  gray ;   and  wants  to 


1 874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  41 

compare  Pickersgill's  Portrait  with  Phillips' — which 
I  particularly  wished  to  be  left  out  of  account. 
Laurence  is  a  dear  little  fellow — a  Gentleman — 
Spedding  said,  '  made  of  Nature's  very  finest  Clay.' 1 
So  he  is  :  but  the  most  obstinate  little  man — '  incor- 
rigible,' Richmond  called  him  ;  and  so  he  wearies  out 
those  who  wish  most  to  serve  and  employ  him ;  and 
so  has  spoiled  his  own  Fortune. 

Do  you  read  in  America  of  Holman  Hunt's  famous 
new  Picture  of  '  The  Shadow  of  Death,'  which  he  has 
been  some  seven  Years  painting — in  Jerusalem,  and 
now  exhibits  under  theatrical  Lights  and  accompani- 
ments? This  does  not  induce  me  to  believe  in  H. 
Hunt  more  than  heretofore  :  which  is — not  at  all. 
Raffaelle,  Mozart,  Shakespeare,  did  not  take  all  that 
time  about  a  work,  nor  brought  it  forth  to  the  world 
with  so  much  Pomp  and  Circumstance. 

Do  you  know  Sainte  Beuve's  Causeries?  I  think 
one  of  the  most  delightful  Books — a  Volume  of  which 
I  brought  here,  and  makes  me  now  write  of  it  to  you. 
It  is  a  Book  worth  having — worth  buying — for  you 
can  read  it  more  than  once,  and  twice.  And  I  have 
taken  up  Don  Quixote  again :  more  Evergreen  still ; 
in  Spanish,  as  it  must  be  read,  I  doubt. 

Here  is  a  Sheet  of  Paper  already  filled,  with  matters 
very  little  worthy  of  sending  over  the  Atlantic.     But 

1  Quoting  from  Peacock's  '  Headlong  Hall ' : — 

'  Nature  had  but  little  clay 
Like  that  of  which  she  moulded  him.' 

See  '  Letters,'  i.  75,  note. 


42    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

you  will  be  glad  of  the  Donne  news,  at  any  rate. 
Do  tell  me  ever  so  little  of  yourself  in  return. 

Now  my  Eyes  have  had  enough  of  this  vile  steel 
pen  :  and  so  have  yours,  I  should  think  :  and  I  will 
mix  a  Glass  of  poor  Sherry  and  Water,  and  fill  a  Pipe, 
and  think  of  you  while  I  smoke  it.  Think  of  me 
sometimes  as 

Yours  always  sincerely, 

E.  F.G. 

P.S.  I  shall  venture  this  Letter  with  no  further 
Address  than  I  remember  now. 


XVII. 

Little  Grange  :  Woodbridge, 

May  2/74. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

My  Castle  Clock  has  gone  9  p.m.,  and  I 
myself  am  but  half  an  hour  home  from  a  Day  to 
Lowestoft.  Why  I  should  begin  a  Letter  to  you 
under  these  circumstances  I  scarce  know.  However, 
I  have  long  been  intending  to  write  :  nay,  actually 
did  write  half  a  Letter  which  I  mislaid.  What  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  was — and  is — that  Donne  is  going 
on  very  well :  Mowbray  thinks  he  may  be  pronounced 
1  recovered.'  You  may  have  heard  about  him  from 
some  other  hand  before  this :  I  know  you  will  be  glad 
to  hear  it  at  any  time,  from  any  quarter. 

This  my  Castle  had  been  named  by  me  '  Grange 
Farm,'    being    formerly   a   dependency   of   a    more 


1 874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  43 

considerable  Chateau  on  the  hill  above.  But  a  fine 
tall  Woman,  who  has  been  staying  two  days,  ordered 
me  to  call  it  '  Little  Grange.'  So  it  must  be.  She 
came  to  meet  a  little  Niece  of  mine  :  both  Annies : 
one  tall  as  the  other  is  short :  both  capital  in  Head 
and  Heart :  I  knew  they  would  fadge  well :  so  they 
did :  so  we  all  did,  waiting  on  ourselves  and  on  one 
another.  Odd  that  I  have  another  tip-top  Annie  on 
my  small  list  of  Acquaintances — Annie  Thackeray. 

I  wonder  what  Spring  is  like  in  America.  We  have 
had  an  April  of  really  '  magnifique '  Weather :  but 
here  is  that  vixen  May  with  its  N.E.  airs.  A 
Nightingale  however  sings  so  close  to  my  Bedroom 
that  (the  window  being  open)  the  Song  is  almost 
too  loud. 

I  thought  you  would  come  back  to  Nightingale-land  ! 

Donne  is  better :  and  Spedding  has  at  last  (I  hear) 
got  his  load  of  Bacon  off  his  Shoulders,  after  carrying 
it  for  near  Forty  years  !  Forty  years  long  !  A  fortnight 
ago  there  was  such  a  delicious  bit  of  his  in  Notes  and 
Queries,1  a  Comment  on  some  American  Comment 
on  a  passage  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  that  I  recalled 
my  old  Sorrow  that  he  had  not  edited  Shakespeare 

1  18  April,  1874.  Professor  Hiram  Corson  endeavoured  to 
maintain  the  correctness  of  the  reading  of  the  Folios  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  v.  2.  86-88  : 

'  For  his  Bounty, 
There  was  no  winter  in  't.     An  Anthony  it  was, 
That  grew  the  more  by  reaping. ' 

Spedding  admirably  defended  Theobald's  certain  emendation  of 
'  autumn '  for  '  Anthony.' 


44    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

long  ago  instead  of  wasting  Life  in  washing  his 
Blackamoor.  Perhaps  there  is  time  for  this  yet :  but 
is  there  the  Will  ? 

Pray,  Madam,  how  do  you  emphasize  the  line — 

'  After  Life's  fitful  Fever  he  sleeps  well,' 

which,  by  the  by,  one  wonders  never  to  have  seen  in 
some  Churchyard?  What  do  you  think  of  this  for 
an  Epitaph — from  Crabbe  ? — 

'Friend  of  the  Poor — the  Wretched — the  Betray'd, 
They  cannot  pay  thee — but  thou  shalt  be  paid.'1 

This  is  a  poor  Letter  indeed  to  make  you  answer — 
as  answer  you  will — I  really  only  intended  to  tell  you 
of  Donne  ;  and  remain  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 
Pollock  is  busy  editing  Macready's  Papers. 

1  These  lines  are  not  to  be  found  in  Crabbe,  so  far  as  I  can 
ascertain,  but  they  appear  to  be  a  transformation  of  two  which 
occur  in  the  Parish  Register,  Part  II.,  in  the  story  of  Phebe  Dawson 
(Works,  ii.  183) : 

'  Friend  of  distress  !     The  mourner  feels  thy  aid  ; 
She  cannot  pay  thee,  but  thou  wilt  be  paid.' 

They  had  taken  possession  of  FitzGerald's  memory  in  their  present 
shape,  for  in  a  letter  to  me,  dated  5  Nov.  1877,  speaking  of  the 
poet's  son,  who  was  Vicar  of  Bredfield,  he  says:  "  It  is  now  just 
twenty  years  since  the  Brave  old  Boy  was  laid  in  Bredfield  Church- 
yard. Two  of  his  Father's  Lines  might  make  Epitaph  for  some 
good  soul : — 

'  Friend  of  the  Poor,  the  Wretched,  the  Betray'd  ; 
They  cannot  pay  thee — but  thou  shalt  be  paid.' 

Pas  mal  9a,  eh  !  " 


1 874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  45 

,  XVIII. 

Lowestoft  :  June  2/74. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Many  a  time  have  I  written  to  you  from 
this  place  :  which  may  be  the  reason  why  I  write 
again  now — the  very  day  your  Letter  reaches  me — for 
I  don't  know  that  I  have  fnuch  to  say,  nor  anything 
worth  forcing  from  you  the  Answer  that  you  will 
write.  Let  me  look  at  your  Letter  again.  Yes : 
so  I  thought  of  '  he  sleeps  well/  and  yet  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  heard  it  so  read.  (I  never  heard 
you  read  the  Play)  I  don't  think  Macready  read  it  so. 
I  liked  his  Macbeth,  I  must  say  :  only  he  would  say 
*  Amen  st-u-u-u-ck  in  his  throat,'  which  was  not  only 
a  blunder,  but  a  vulgar  blunder,  I  think. 

Spedding — I  should  think  indeed  it  was  too  late 
for  him  to  edit  Shakespeare,  if  he  had  not  gone  on 
doing  so,  as  it  were,  all  his  Life.  Perhaps  it  is  too 
late  for  him  to  remember  half,  or  a  quarter,  of  his 
own  Observations.  Well  then :  I  wish  he  would 
record  what  he  does  remember :  if  not  an  Edition  of 
Shakespeare  yet  so  many  Notes  toward  an  Edition. 
I  am  persuaded  that  no  one  is  more  competent.1 

1  In  a  letter  to  me  dated  October  29th,  1871,  FitzGerald  says  : — 
"A  suggestion  that  casually   fell  from   old  Spedding's  lips   (I 
forget  how  long  ago)  occurred  to  me  the  other  day.     Instead  of 

'  Do  such  business  as  the  bitter  day,' 
read  '  better  day  ' — a  certain  Emendation,  I  think.     I  hope  you  take 
Spedding  into  your  Counsel ;  he  might  be  induced  to  look  over  one 


46    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

You  see  your  Americans  will  go  too  far.  It  was 
some  American  Professor's  Note  r  on  '  the  Autumn  of 
his  Bounty'  which  occasioned  Spedding's  delightful 
Comment  some  while  ago,  and  made  me  remember 
my  old  wish  that  he  should  do  the  thing.  But  he 
will  not :  especially  if  one  asks  him. 

Donne — Archdeacon  Groome  told  me  a  Fortnight 
ago  that  he  had  been  at, Weymouth  Street.  Donne 
better,  but  still  not  his  former  Self. 

By  the  by,  I  have  got  a  Skeleton  of  my  own  at 
last :  Bronchitis — which  came  on  me  a  month  ago — 
which  I  let  go  on  for  near  three  weeks — then  was 
forced  to  call  in  a  Doctor  to  subdue,  who  kept  me  a 
week  indoors.  And  now  I  am  told  that,  every  Cold 
I  catch,  my  Skeleton  is  to  come  out,  etc,  Every 
N.E.  wind  that  blows,  etc.  I  had  not  been  shut  up 
indoors  for  some  fifty-five  years — since  Measles  at 
school — but  I  had  green  before  my  Windows,  and 
Don  Quixote  for  Company  within.     Que  voulez-vous  ? 

Shakespeare  again.  A  Doctor  Whalley,  who  wrote 
a  Tragedy  for  Mrs.  Siddons  (which  she  declined), 
proposed  to  her  that  she  should  read — '  But  screw 
your  Courage  to  the  sticking  place,'  with  the  appropriate 
action  of  using  the  Dagger.  I  think  Mrs.  Siddons 
good-naturedly  admits  there  may  be  something  in  the 

Play  at  a  time  though  he  might  shrink  from  all  in  a  Body ;  and 
I  scarce  ever  heard  him  conning  a  page  of  Shakespeare  but  he 
suggested  something  which  was  an  improvement — on  Shakespeare 
himself,  if  not  on  his  Editors— though  don't  [tell]  Spedding  that 
I  say  so,  for  God's  sake." 

1  In  '  Notes  and  Queries,'  April  18th,  1874. 


1 874]  T0    FANNY   KEMBLE  47 

suggestion.  One  reads  this  in  the  last  memoir  of 
Madame  Piozzi,  edited  by  Mr.  Hayward. 

Blackbird  v.  Nightingale.  I  have  always  loved  the 
first  best :  as  being  so  jolly,  and  the  Note  so  proper 
from  that  golden  Bill  of  his.  But  one  does  not  like 
to  go  against  received  opinion.  Your  Oriole  has  been 
seen  in  these  parts  by  old — very  old — people  :  at 
least,  a  gay  bird  so  named.  But  no  one  ever  pretends 
to  see  him  now. 

Now  have  you  perversely  crossed  the  Address 
which  you  desire  me  to  abide  by :  and  I  can't  be  sure 
of  your  '  Branchtown '  ?  But  I  suppose  that  enough 
is  clear  to  make  my  Letter  reach  you  if  it  once  gets 
across  the  Atlantic.  And  now  this  uncertainty  about 
your  writing  recalls  to  me — very  absurdly — an  absurd 
Story  told  me  by  a  pious,  but  humorous,  man,  which 
will  please  you  if  you  don't  know  it  already. 

Scene. — Country  Church  on  Winter's  Evening. 
Congregation,  with  the  Old  Hundredth  ready  for  the 
Parson  to  give  out  some  Dismissal  Words. 

Good  old  Parson,  not  at  all  meaning  rhyme,  c  The 
Light  has  grown  so  very  dim,  I  scarce  can  see  to 
read  the  Hymn.' 

Congregation,  taking  it  up  :  to  the  first  half  of  the 
Old  Hundredth— 

'  The  Light  has  grown  so  very  dim, 
I  scarce  can  see  to  read  the  Hymn.' 

(Pause,  as  usual :  Parson,  mildly  impatient)  '  I  did 
not  mean  to  read  a  Hymn ;  I  only  meant  my  Eyes 
were  dim.' 


4S    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

Congregation,  to  second  part  of  Old  Hundredth  : — 

'  I  did  not  mean  to  read  a  Hymn  ; 
I  only  meant  my  Eyes  were  dim.' 

Parson,  out  of  Patience,  etc.  : — 

'  I  didn't  mean  a  Hymn  at  all, — 
I  think  the  Devil's  in  you  all.' 

I  say,  if  you  don't  know  this,  it  is  worth  your  knowing, 
and  making  known  over  the  whole  Continent  of 
America,  North  and  South.  And  I  am  your  trusty 
and  affectionate  old  Beadsman  (left  rather  deaf  with 
that  blessed  Bronchitis) 

E.  F.G. 


XIX. 

Little  Grange  :  Woodbridge. 

July  21,  [1874.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  must  write  to  you — for  I  have  seen  Donne, 
and  can  tell  you  that  he  looks  and  seems  much  better 
than  I  had  expected,  though  I  had  been  told  to 
expect  well :  he  was  upright,  well  coloured,  animated ; 
I  should  say  (sotto  voce)  better  than  he  seemed  to  me 
two  years  ago.  And  this  in  spite  of  the  new  Lord 
Chamberlain *  having  ousted  him  from  his  Theatrical 
post,  wanting  a  younger  and  more  active  man  to  go 
and  see  the  Plays,  as  well  as  read  them.  I  do  not 
think  this  unjust;  I  was  told  by  Pollock  that  the 

1  Lord  Hertford. 


1874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  49 

dismissal  was  rather  abrupt :  but  Donne  did  not 
complain  of  it.  When  does  he  complain  ?  He  will 
now,  however,  leave  Weymouth  Street,  and  inhabit 
some  less  costly  house — not  wanting  indeed  so  large 
[a]  one  for  his  present  household.  He  is  shortly 
going  with  his  Daughters  to  join  the  Blakesleys  at 
Whitby.  Mowbray  was  going  off  for  his  Holiday  to 
Cornwall :  I  just  heard  him  speaking  of  Freddy's 
present  Address  to  his  father :  Blanche  was  much 
stronger,  from  the  treatment  of  a  Dr.  Beard *  (I  think). 
I  was  quite  moved  by  her  warm  salutation  when  I 
met  her,  after  some  fifteen  years'  absence.  All  this 
I  report  from  a  Visit  I  made  to  Donne's  own  house 
in  London.  A  thing  I  scarce  ever  thought  to  do 
again,  you  may  know :  but  I  could  not  bear  to  be 
close  to  him  in  London  for  two  days  without  assuring 
myself  with  my  own  Eyes  how  he  looked.  I  think 
I  observed  a  slight  hesitation  of  memory  :  but  certainly 
not  so  much  as  I  find  in  myself,  nor,  I  suppose, 
unusual  in  one's  Contemporaries.  My  visit  to  London 
followed  a  visit  to  Edinburgh :  which  I  have  intended 
these  thirty  years,  only  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  my 
dear  Sir  Walter's  House  and  Home  :  and  which  I  am 
glad  to  have  seen,  as  that  of  Shakespeare.  I  had 
expected  to  find  a  rather  Cockney  Castle :  but  no 
such  thing  :  all  substantially  and  proportionably  built, 
according  to  the  Style  of  the  Country  :  the  Grounds 
well   and  simply  laid  out :   the   woods   he    planted 

1  Frank  Carr  Beard,  the  friend  and  medical  adviser  of  Dickens 
and  Wilkie  Collins. 


5o    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

well-grown,  and  that  dear  Tweed  running  and 
murmuring  still — as  on  the  day  of  his  Death.1  I 
did  not  so  much  care  for  Melrose,  and  Jedburgh,2 
though  his  Tomb  is  there — in  one  of  the  half- 
ruined  corners.  Another  day  I  went  to  Trossachs, 
Katrine,  Lomond,  etc.,  which  (as  I  expected) 
seemed  much  better  to  me  in  Pictures  and  Drop- 
scenes.  I  was  but  three  days  in  Scotland,  and 
was  glad  to  get  back  to  my  own  dull  flat  country, 
though  I  did  worship  the  Pentland,  Cheviot,  and 
Eildon,  Hills,  more  for  their  Associations  than  them- 
selves.    They  are  not  big  enough  for  that. 

I  saw  little  in  London :  the  Academy  Pictures 
even  below  the  average,  I  thought :  only  a  Picture 
by  Millais  of  an  old  Sea  Captain  3  being  read  to  by 
his  Daughter  which  moistened  my  Eyes.  I  thought 
she  was  reading  him  the  Bible,  which  he  seemed 
half  listening  to,  half  rambling  over  his  past  Life  : 
but  I  am  told  (I  had  no  Catalogue)  that  she  was 
reading  about  the  North  West  Passage.  There  were 
three   deep   of    Bonnets    before    Miss   Thompson's 


1  See  Lockhart's  '  Life  of  Scott,'  vii.  394  :  '  About  half-past  one, 
p.m.,  on  the  21st  of  September,  [1832],  Sir  Walter  breathed  his 
last,  in  the  presence  of  all  his  children.  It  was  a  beautiful  day — 
so  warm  that  every  window  was  wide  open,  and  so  perfectly  still, 
that  the  sound  of  all  others  most  delicious  to  his  ear,  the  gentle 
ripple  of  the  Tweed  over  its  pebbles,  was  distinctly  audible  as  we 
knelt  around  the  bed,  and  his  eldest  son  kissed  and  closed  his 
eyes. ' 

2  Dryburgh. 

3  The  North  West  Passage.  The  '  Old  Sea  Captain '  was 
Trelawny. 


1 874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  51 

famous  Roll  Call  of  the  Guards  in  the  Crimea ;  so 
I  did  not  wait  till  they  fell  away.1 

Yours  always 

E.  F.G. 


XX. 

Lowestoft  :  Aug.  24,  [1874.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Your  letter  reached  me  this  morning :  and 
you  see  I  lose  no  time  in  telling  you  that,  as  I  hear 
from  Pollock,  Donne  is  allowed  ^350  a  year  retiring 
Pension.  So  I  think  neither  he  nor  his  friends  have 
any  reason  to  complain.  His  successor  in  the  office 
is  named  (I  think)  '  Piggott ' 2 — Pollock  thinks  a 
good  choice.  Lord  Hertford  brought  the  old  and 
the  new  Examiners  together  to  Dinner  :  and  all  went 
off  well.  Perhaps  Donne  himself  may  have  told  you 
all  this  before  now.  He  was  to  be,  about  this  time, 
with  the  Blakesleys  at  Whitby  or  Filey.  I  have  not 
heard  any  of  these  particulars  from  himself:  nothing 
indeed  since  I  saw  him  in  London. 

Pollock  was  puzzled  by  an  entry  in  Macready's 
Journal — 1831  or  1832 — 'Received  Thackeray's 
Tragedy '  with  some  such  name  as  '  Retribution.'  I 
told  Pollock  I  was  sure  it  was  not  W.  M.  T.,  who 
(especially  at  that  time)  had  more  turn  to  burlesque 
than  real  Tragedy :  and  sure  that  he  would  have 
told  me  of  it  then,  whether  accepted  or  rejected — as 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  173-4.  2  E.  F.  S.  Pigott. 


52    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

rejected  it  was.  Pollock  thought  for  some  while  that, 
in  spite  of  the  comic  Appearance  we  keep  up,  we 
should  each  of  us  rise  up  from  the  Grave  with  a 
MS.  Tragedy  in  our  hands,  etc.  However,  he  has 
become  assured  it  was  some  other  Thackeray:  I 
suppose  one  mentioned  by  Planche  as  a  Dramatic 
Dilettante — of  the  same  Family,  I  think,  as  W.  M.  T. 

Spedding  has  sent  me  the  concluding  Volume  of 
his  Bacon  :  the  final  summing  up  simple,  noble, 
deeply  pathetic — rather  on  Spedding's  own  Account 
than  his  Hero's,  for  whose  Vindication  so  little  has 
been  done  by  the  sacrifice  of  forty  years  of  such  a 
Life  as  Spedding's.  Positively,  nearly  all  the  new 
matter  which  S.  has  produced  makes  against,  rather 
than  for,  Bacon  :  and  I  do  think  the  case  would 
have  stood  better  if  Spedding  had  only  argued  from 
the  old  materials,  and  summed  up  his  Vindication  in 
one  small  Volume  some  thirty-five  years  ago. 

I  have  been  sunning  myself  in  Dickens — even  in 
his  later  and  very  inferior  '  Mutual  Friend,'  and 
'  Great  Expectations ' — Very  inferior  to  his  best :  but 
with  things  better  than  any  one  else's  best,  caricature 
as  they  may  be.  I  really  must  go  and  worship  at 
Gadshill,  as  I  have  worshipped  at  Abbotsford,  though 
with  less  Reverence,  to  be  sure.  But  I  must  look 
on  Dickens  as  a  mighty  Benefactor  to  Mankind.1 

This  is  shamefully  bad  writing  of  mine — very  bad 
manners,  to  put  any  one — especially  a  Lady — to  the 
trouble  and  pain  of  deciphering.     I  hope  all  about 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  172. 


1874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  53 

Donne  is  legible,  for  you  will  be  glad  of  it.  It  is 
Lodging-house  Pens  and  Ink  that  is  partly  to  blame 
for  this  scrawl.  Now,  don't  answer  till  I  write  you 
something  better  :  but  believe  me  ever  and  always 
yours 

E.  F.G. 


XXI. 

Lowestoft  :  October  4/74. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Do,  pray,  write  your  Macready  (Thackeray 
used  to  say  '  Megreedy ')  Story  to  Pollock :  Sir  F. 
59  Montagu  Square.  I  rather  think  he  was  to  be 
going  to  Press  with  his  Megreedy  about  this  time : 
but  you  may  be  sure  he  will  deal  with  whatever 
you  may  confide  to  him  discreetly  and  reverently. 
It  is  '  Miladi '  P.  who  worshipped  Macready :  and 
I  think  I  never  recovered  what  Esteem  I  had  with 
her  when  I  told  her  I  could  not  look  on  him  as  a 
'  Great '  Actor  at  all.  I  see  in  Planche"s  Memoirs 
that  when  your  Father  prophesied  great  things  of 
him  to  your  Uncle  J.  P.  K.,  the  latter  said,  '  Con 
qucllo  visoV  which  lviso'  did  very  well  however  in 
parts  not  positively  heroic.  But  one  can't  think  of 
him  along  with  Kean,  who  was  heroic  in  spite  of 
undersize.  How  he  swelled  up  in  Othello  !  I 
remember  thinking  he  looked  almost  as  tall  as  your 
Father  when  he  came  to  silence  that  dreadful  Bell. 


54    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

I  think  you  agree  with  me  about  Kean  :  remem- 
bering your  really  capital  Paper — in  Macinillan1 — 
about  Dramatic  and  Theatric.  I  often  look  to  that 
Paper,  which  is  bound  up  with  some  Essays  by  other 
Friends — Spedding  among  them — no  bad  Company. 
I  was  thinking  of  your  Pasta  story  of  'feeling'  the 
Antique,  etc.,'2  when  reading  in  my  dear  Ste.  Beuve 3 
of  my  dear  Madame  du  Deffand  asking  Madame  de 
Choiseul :  '  You  knoiv  you  love  me,  but  do  you  feel 
you  love  me  ? '  '  Qiwi  ?  vous  m'aimez  done  1 '  she 
said  to  her  secretary  Wiart,  when  she  heard  him 
sobbing  as  she  dictated  her  last  letter  to  Walpole.4 

All  which  reminds  me  of  one  of  your  friends 
departed — Chorley — whose  Memoirs  one  now  buys 
from  Mudie  for  2s.  6d.  or  so.  And  well — well — 
worth  to  those  who  recollect  him.  I  only  knew 
him  by  Face — and  Voice — at  your  Father's,  and  your 
Sister's :  and  used  to  think  what  a  little  waspish 
Dilettatite  it  was :  and  now  I  see  he  was  something 
very  much  better  indeed  :  and  I  only  hope  I  may 
have  Courage  to  face  my  Death  as  he  had.     Dickens 

1  Not  Macmillan ,  but  Cornhill  Magazine,  Dec.  1863,  '  On 
the  Stage.'     See  Letter  of  24  Aug.,  1875. 

2  "  Pasta,  the  great  lyric  tragedian,  who,  Mrs.  Siddons  said,  was 
capable  of  giving  her  lessons,  replied  to  the  observation,  '  Vous 
avez  du  beaucoup  e"tudier  l'antique.'  *Je  l'ai  beaucoup  senti.'  " — ■ 
From  Mrs.  Kemble's  article  'On  the  Stage'  ('Cornhill,'  1863), 
reprinted  as  an  Introduction  to  her  Notes  upon  some  of  Shake- 
speare's Plays. 

3  '  Causeries  du  Lundi,'  xiv.  234. 

4  Lettre  de  Viard  a  M.  Walpole,  in  '  Lettres  de  Madame  du 
Deffand,'  iv.  178  (Paris,  1824).  FitzGerald  probably  read  it  in 
Ste.  Beuve,  '  Causeries  du  Lundi,'  i.  405. 


1874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  55 

loved  him,  who  did  not  love  Humbugs :  and  Chorley 
would  have  two  strips  of  Gadshill  Yew1  put  with 
him  in  his  Coffin.  Which  again  reminds  me  that 
— a  propos  of  your  comments  on  Dickens'  crimson 
waistcoat,  etc.,  Thackeray  told  me  thirty  years  ago, 
that  Dickens  did  it,  not  from  any  idea  of  Cockney 
fashion  :  but  from  a  veritable  passion  for  Colours — 
which  I  can  well  sympathize  with,  though  I  should 
not  exhibit  them  on  my  own  Person — for  very  good 
reasons.  Which  again  reminds  me  of  what  you 
write  about  my  abiding  the  sight  of  you  in  case 
you  return  to  England  next  year.  Oh,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Kemble,  you  must  know  how  wrong  all  that 
is — tout  au  cofitraire,  in  fact.  Tell  me  a  word  about 
Chorley  when  next  you  write :  you  said  once  that 
Mendelssohn  laughed  at  him :  then,  he  ought  not. 
How  well  I  remember  his  strumming  away  at  some 
Waltz  in  Harley  or  Wimpole's  endless  Street,  while 
your  Sister  and  a  few  other  Guests  went  round.  I 
thought  then  he  looked  at  one  as  if  thinking  '  Do 
you  think  me  then — a  poor,  red-headed  Amateur, 
as  Rogers  does  ?  '  That  old  Beast !  I  don't  scruple 
to  say  so. 

I  am  positively  looking  over  my  everlasting  Crabbe 
again  :  he  naturally  comes  in  about  the  Fall  of  the 
Year.  Do  you  remember  his  wonderful  '  October 
Day'?2 

1  Cedars,  not  yew.     See  Memoirs  of  Chorley,  ii.  240. 

2  In  Tales  of  the  Hall,  Book  XI.  ('  Works,'  vi.  284),  quoted  from 
memory. 


56    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

'  Before  the  Autumn  closed, 
When  Nature,  ere  her  Winter  Wars,  reposed  : 
When  from  our  Garden,  as  we  looked  above, 
No  Cloud  was  seen  ;  and  nothing  seem'd  to  move  ; 
When  the  wide  River  was  a  Silver  Sheet, 
And  upon  Ocean  slept  the  unanchor'd  fleet : 
When  the  wing'd  Insect  settled  in  our  Sight, 
And  waited  Wind  to  recommence  her  flight.' 

And  then,  the  Lady  who  believes  her  young  Lover 
dead,  and  has  vowed  eternal  Celibacy,  sees  him 
advancing,  a  portly,  well  to  do,  middle  aged  man  : 
and  swears  she  won't  have  him  :  and  does  have 
him,  etc. 

Which  reminds  me  that  I  want  you  to  tell  me  if 
people  in  America  read  Crabbe. 

Farewell,    dear    Mrs.    Kemble,   for    the    present : 
always  yours 

E.  F.G. 

Have  you  the  Robin  in  America  ?     One  is  singing 
in  the  little  bit  Garden  before  me  now. 


XXII. 

59  Montagu  Square,  London,  W. 

5  Oc/./74. 
My  dear  Fitz, 

It  is  very  good  of  Mrs.  Kemble  to  wish  to 
tell  me  a  story  about  Macready,  and  I  shall  be  glad 
to  know  it. 

Only — she  should  know  that  I  am  not  writing  his 


1 874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  57 

life — but  editing  his  autobiographical  reminiscences 
and  diaries — and  unless  the  anecdote  could  be  intro- 
duced to  explain  or  illustrate  these,  it  would  not  be 
serviceable  for  my  present  purpose. 

But  for  its  own  sake  and  for  Macready's  I  should 
like  to  be  made  acquainted  with  it. 

I  am  making  rapid  way  with  the  printing — in  fact 
have  got  to  the  end  of  what  will  be  Vol.  I.  in  slip — 
so  that  I  hope  the  work  may  be  out  by  or  soon  after 
Christmas,  if  the  engravings  are  also  ready  by  that 
time. 

It  will  be,  I  am  sure,  most  interesting — and  will 
surprise  a  great  many  people  who  did  not  at  all  know 
what  Macready  really  was. 

You  last  heard  of  me  at  Clovelly — where  we  spent 
a  delightful  month — more  rain  than  was  pleasant — 
but  on  the  whole  charming.  I  think  I  told  you  that 
Annie  Thackeray  was  there  for  a  night — and  that  we 
bound  her  over  not  to  make  the  reading  public  too 
well  acquainted  with  the  place,  which  would  not  be 
good  for  it. 

Since  then — a  fortnight  at  St.  Julians — and  the 
same  time  at  Tunbridge  Wells — I  coming  up  to  town 
three  times  a  week — 

Noctes  atque  dies  patet  atri  janua  Ditis,1 

and  as  there  are  other  points  of  resemblance — so.  it 
is  natural  that  the  Gates  of  Justice  should  be  open 
even   during   the  Vacation — just  a  little  ajar — with 

1  Virgil,  ALn.  vi.  127. 


lib.- 

Xs  OF  1  r 


UNIVER- 
1LIF0R 


58    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

somebody  to  look  after  it,  which  somebody  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  be  this  year. 

T.  Wells  was  very  pleasant — I  like  the  old-fashioned 
place — and  can  always  people  the  Pantiles  (they  call 
it  the  Parade  now)  with  Dr.  Johnson  and  the  Duchess 
of  Kingston,  and  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury  and  the 
foreign  baron,  and  the  rest.1 

Miladi  and  Walter  are  at  Paris  for  a  few  days.  I 
am  keeping  house  with  Maurice. — Yours,  W.  F.  Pk. 

We  have  J.  S.'s  a  seventh  volume — and  I  am  going 
to  read  it — but  do  not  know  where  he  is  himself.  I 
have  not  seen  the  '  white,  round  object — which  is  the 
head  of  him '  for  some  time  past — not  since — July. — 

XXIII. 

WOODBRIDGE  :    Novr.   17/74. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Your  Letter  about  Megreedy,  as  Thackeray 
used  to  call  him,  is  very  interesting :  I  mean  as  con- 
nected with  your  Father  also.  Megreedy,  with  all 
his  flat  face,  managed  to  look  well  as  Virginius, 
didn't  he?  And,  as  I  thought,  well  enough  in 
Macbeth,  except  where  he  would  stand  with  his 
mouth  open  (after  the  Witches  had  hailed  him),  till 
I  longed  to  pitch  something  into  it  out  of  the  Pit, 
the  dear  old  Pit.     How  came  he  to  play  Henry  IV. 

1  Referring  to  the  well-known  print  of  '  Remarkable  Characters 
who  were  at  Tunbridge  Wells  with  Richardson  in  1748/ 

2  James  Spedding. 


1 874]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  59 

instead  of  your  Father,  in  some  Play  I  remember  at 
C.  G.,  though  I  did  not  see  it  ?  How  well  I  remember 
your  Father  in  Falconbridge  (Young,  K.  John)  as  he 
looked  sideway  and  upward  before  the  Curtain  fell 
on  his  Speech. 

Then  his  Petruchio  :  I  remember  his  looking  up, 
as  the  curtain  fell  at  the  end,  to  where  he  knew  that 
Henry  had  taken  me — some  very  upper  Box.  And 
I  remember  too  his  standing  with  his  Hunting  spear, 
looking  with  pleasure  at  pretty  Miss  Foote  as  Rosalind. 
He  played  well  what  was  natural  to  him  :  the  gallant 
easy  Gentleman — I  thought  his  Charles  Surface  rather 
cumbrous  :  but  he  was  no  longer  young. 

Mrs.  Wister  quite  mistook  the  aim  of  my  Query 
about  Crabbe  :  I  asked  if  he  were  read  in  America 
for  the 'very  reason  that  he  is  not  read  in  England. 
And  in  the  October  Cornhill  is  an  Article  upon  him 
(I  hope  not  by  Leslie  Stephen),  so  ignorant  and  self- 
sufficient  that  I  am  more  wroth  than  ever.  The  old 
Story  of  '  Pope  in  worsted  stockings ' — why  I  could 
cite  whole  Paragraphs  of  as  fine  texture  as  Moliere — 
incapable  of  Epigram,  the  Jackanapes  says  of  '  our 
excellent  Crabbe  ' — why  I  could  find  fifty  of  the  very 
best  Epigrams  in  five  minutes.  But  now  do  you  care 
for  him  ?  '  Honour  bright  ? '  as  Sheridan  used  to  say. 
I  don't  think  I  ever  knew  a  Woman  who  did  like  C, 
except  my  Mother.  What  makes  People  (this  stupid 
Reviewer  among  them)  talk  of  worsted  Stockings  is 
because  of  having  read  only  his  earlier  works  :  when 
he  himself  talked  of  his  Muse  as 


60     LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1874 

'  Muse  of  the  Mad,  the  Foolish,  and  the  Poor,' l 
the  Borough  :  Parish  Register,  etc.  But  it  is  his 
Tales  of  the  Hall  which  discover  him  in  silk  Stock- 
ings ;  the  subjects,  the  Scenery,  the  Actors,  of  a  more 
Comedy  kind :  with,  I  say,  Paragraphs,  and  Pages,  of 
fine  Moliere  style — only  too  often  defaced  by  careless- 
ness, disproportion,  and  '  longueurs '  intolerable.  I 
shall  leave  my  Edition  of  Tales  of  the  Hall,  made 
legible  by  the  help  of  Scissors  and  Gum,  with  a  word 
or  two  of  Prose  to  bridge  over  pages  of  stupid  Verse. 
I  don't  wish  to  try  and  supersede  the  Original,  but, 
by  the  Abstract,  to  get  People  to  read  the  whole,  and 
so  learn  (as  in  Clarissa)  how  to  get  it  all  under  com- 
mand. I  even  wish  that  some  one  in  America  would 
undertake  to  publish — in  whole,  or  part  by  part — my 
'  Readings  in  Crabbe,'  viz.,  Tales  of  the  Hall :  but 
no  one  would  let  me  do  the  one  thing  I  can  do. 

I  think  you  must  repent  having  encouraged  such 
a  terrible  Correspondent  as  myself:  you  have  the 
remedy  in  your  own  hands,  you  know.  I  find  that 
the  Bronchitis  I  had  in  Spring  returns  upon  me  now  : 
so  I  have  to  give  up  my  Night  walks,  and  stalk  up 
and  down  my  own  half-lighted  Hall  (like  Chateau- 
briand's Father) a  till  my  Reader  comes. 

Ever  yours  truly 

E.  F.G. 

1  In  the  original  draft  of  Tales  of  the  Hall,  Book  VI. 

2  See  Memoirs  of  Chateaubriand,  written  by  himself,  Eng.  trans., 
1849,  p.  123.  At  the  Chateau  of  Combourg  in  Brittany,  '  When 
supper  was  over,  and  the  party  of  four  had  removed  from  the  table 
to  the  chimney,  my  mother  would  throw  herself,  with  a  sigh,  upon 


1875]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  61 

Ntnf.  21. 
I  detained  this  letter  till  I  heard  from  Donne,  who 
has  been  at  Worthing,  and  writes  cheerfully. 


XXIV. 

Lowestoft,  Febr.  n/75. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Will  you  please  to  thank  Mr.  Furness  for  the 
trouble  he  has  taken  about  Crabbe.  The  American 
Publisher  is  like  the  English,  it  appears,  and  both 
may  be  quite  right.  They  certainly  are  right  in  not 
accepting  anything  except  on  very  good  recommenda- 
tion ;  and  a  Man's  Fame  is  the  best  they  can  have 
for  their  purpose.  I  should  not  in  the  least  be  vext 
or  even  disappointed  at  any  rejection  of  my  Crabbe, 
but  it  is  not  worth  further  trouble  to  any  party  to 
send  across  the  Atlantic  what  may,  most  probably, 
be  returned  with  thanks  and  Compliments.  And 
then  Mr.  Furness  would  feel  bound  to  ask  some  other 

an  old  cotton-covered  sofa,  and  near  her  was  placed  a  little  stand 
with  a  light.  I  sat  down  by  the  fire  with  Lucile ;  the  servants  re- 
moved the  supper-things,  and  retired.  My  father  then  began  to 
walk  up  and  down,  and  never  ceased  until  his  bedtime.  He  wore 
a  kind  of  white  woollen  gown,  or  rather  cloak,  such  as  I  have  never 
seen  with  any  one  else.  His  head,  partly  bald,  was  covered  with  a 
large  white  cap,  which  stood  bolt  upright.  When,  in  the  course  of 
his  walk,  he  got  to  a  distance  from  the  fire,  the  vast  apartment  was 
so  ill-lighted  by  a  single  candle  that  he  could  be  no  longer  seen  ; 
he  could  still  be  heard  marching  about  in  the  dark,  however,  and 
presently  returned  slowly  towards  the  light,  and  emerged  by  degrees 
from  obscurity,  looking  like  a  spectre,  with  his  white  robe  and  cap, 
and  his  tall,  thin  figure." 


62    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

Publisher,  and  you  to  write  to  me  about  it.  No,  no  ! 
Thank  him,  if  you  please  :  you  know  I  thank  you  : 
and  then  I  will  let  the  matter  drop. 

The  Athenaeum  told  me  there  was  a  Paper  by 
Carlyle  in  the  January  Fraser — on  the  old  Norway 
Kings.  Then  People  said  it  was  not  his  :  but  his  it 
is,  surely  enough  (though  I  have  no  Authority  but 
my  own  Judgment  for  saying  so),  and  quite  delightful. 
If  missing  something  of  his  Prime,  missing  also  all 
his  former 'Sound  and  Fury,'  etc.,  and  as  alive  as 
ever.  I  had  thoughts  of  writing  to  him  on  the 
subject,  but  have  not  yet  done  so.  But  pray  do  you 
read  the  Papers :  there  is  a  continuation  in  the 
February  Fraser :  and  '  to  be  continued '  till  ended, 
I  suppose. 

Your  Photograph — Yes — I  saw  your  Mother  in  it, 
as  I  saw  her  in  you  when  you  came  to  us  in  Wood- 
bridge  in  1852.  That  is,  I  saw  her  such  as  I  had 
seen  her  in  a  little  sixpenny  Engraving  in  a  '  Cottage 
Bonnet,'  something  such  as  you  wore  when  you  stept 
out  of  your  Chaise  at  the  Crown  Inn. 

My  Mother  always  said  that  your  Mother  was  by 
far  the  most  witty,  sensible,  and  agreeable  Woman 
she  knew.  I  remember  one  of  the  very  few  delightful 
Dinner  parties  I  ever  was  at — in  St.  James'  Place — 
(was  it  ?)  a  Party  of  seven  or  eight,  at  a  round  Table, 
your  Mother  at  the  head  of  the  Table,  and  Mrs.  F. 
Kemble  my  next  Neighbour.  And  really  the  (almost) 
only  other  pleasant  Dinner  was  one  you  gave  me  and 
the  Donnes  in  Savile  Row,  before  going  to  see  Wigan 


1875]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  63 

in  '  Still  Waters,'  which  you  said  was  yo?tr  Play,  in  so 
far  as  you  had  suggested  the  Story  from  some  French 
Novel. 

I  used  to  think  what  a  deep  current  of  melancholy 
was  under  your  Mother's  Humour.  Not  'under,' 
neither :  for  it  came  up  as  naturally  to  the  surface  as 
her  Humour.  My  mother  always  said  that  one  great 
charm  in  her  was,  her  Naturalness. 

If  you  read  to  your  Company,  pray  do  you  ever 
read  the  Scene  in  the  '  Spanish  Tragedy '  quoted  in 
C.  Lamb's  Specimens — such  a  Scene  as  (not  being 
in  Verse,  and  quite  familiar  talk)  I  cannot  help  read- 
ing to  my  Guests — very  few  and  far  between — I  mean 
by  *  I,'  one  who  has  no  gift  at  all  for  reading  except 
the  feeling  of  a  few  things  :  and  I  can't  help  stumbling 
upon  Tears  in  this.  Nobody  knows  who  wrote  this 
one  scene  :  it  was  thought  Ben  Jonson,  who  could 
no  more  have  written  it  than  I  who  read  it :  for  what 
else  of  his  is  it  like  ?  Whereas,  Webster  one  fancies 
might  have  done  it.  It  is  not  likely  that  you  do  not 
know  this  wonderful  bit :  but,  if  you  have  it  not  by 
heart  almost,  look  for  it  again  at  once,  and  make 
others  do  so  by  reading  to  them. 

The  enclosed  Note  from  Mowbray  D[onne]  was 
the  occasion  of  my  writing  thus  directly  to  you.  And 
yet  I  have  spoken  '  de  omnibus  other  rebus '  first. 
But  I  venture  to  think  that  your  feeling  on  the 
subject  will  be  pretty  much  like  my  own,  and  so,  no 
use  in  talking. 

Now,  if  I  could  send  you  part  of  what  I  am  now 


64    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

packing  up  for  some  Woodbridge  People — some — 
some — Saffron  Buns  !— for  which  this  Place  is  notable 
from  the  first  day  of  Lent  till  Easter— A  little  Hamper 
of  these  ! 

Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  do  consider  this  letter 
of  mine  as  an  Answer  to  yours — your  two — else  I  shall 
be  really  frightened  at  making  you  write  so  often  to 
yours  always  and  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


XXV. 

Lowestoft:  March  11/75. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  am  really  ashamed  that  you  should 
apologize  for  asking  me  a  Copy  of  Calderon,  etc.1  I 
had  about  a  hundred  Copies  of  all  those  things  printed 
when  printed  :  and  have  not  had  a  hundred  friends 
to  give  them  to — poor  Souls  ! — and  am  very  well 
pleased  to  give  to  any  one  who  likes — especially  any 
Friend  of  yours.  I  think  however  that  your  reading 
of  them  has  gone  most  way  to  make  your  Lady  ask. 
But,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  will  send  you  a  Copy  directly 
I  return  to  my  own  Chateau,  which  I  mean  to  do 
when  the  Daffodils  have  taken  the  winds  of  March.2 

We  have  had  severe  weather  here :  it  has  killed  my 
Brother   Peter  (not   John,  my  eldest)  who  tried  to 

1  '  The  Mighty  Magician  '  and  '  Such  Stuff  as  Dreams  are  made  of.' 

2  See  Winter's  Tale,  iv.  4,  1 18-120. 


1875]  TO   FANNY    KEMBLE  65 

winter  at  Bournemouth,  after  having  wintered  for  the 
last  ten  years  at  Cannes.  Bronchitis : — which  {sotto 
voce)  I  have  as  yet  kept  Cold  from  coming  to.  But 
one  knows  one  is  not  '  out  of  the  Wood '  yet ;  May, 
if  not  March,  being,  you  know,  one  of  our  worst 
Seasons. 

I  heard  from  our  dear  Donne  a  week  ago  ;  speaking 
with  all  his  own  blind  and  beautiful  Love  for  his 
lately  lost  son ;  and  telling  me  that  he  himself  keeps 
his  heart  going  by  Brandy.  But  he  speaks  of  this 
with  no  Fear  at  all.  He  is  going  to  leave  Weymouth 
Street,  but  when,  or  for  where,  he  does  not  say.  He 
spoke  of  a  Letter  he  had  received  from  you  some 
while  ago. 

Now  about  Crabbe,  which  also  I  am  vext  you 
should  have  trouble  about.  I  wrote  to  you  the  day 
after  I  had  your  two  Letters,  with  Mr.  Furness' 
enclosed,  and  said  that,  seeing  the  uncertainty  of  any 
success  in  the  matter,  I  really  would  not  bother  you 
or  him  any  more.  You  know  it  is  but  a  little  thing ; 
which,  even  if  a  Publisher  tried  piece-meal,  would  very 
likely  be  scouted :  I  only  meant  '  piece-meal/  by 
instalments :  so  as  they  could  be  discontinued  if  not 
liked.  But  I  suppose  I  must  keep  my  Work — of 
paste,  and  scissors — for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  Friends 
who  have  had  the  benefit  of  my  other  Works. 

Well :  as  I  say,  I  wrote  and  posted  my  Letter  at 
once,  asking  you  to  thank  Mr.  Furness  for  me.  I 
think  this  must  be  a  month  ago — perhaps  you  had 
my  Letter  the  day  after  you  posted  this  last  of  yours, 

5 


66   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

dated  February  21.  Do  not  trouble  any  more  about 
it,  pray:  read  Carlyle's  'Kings  of  Norway'  in  Fraser: 
and  believe  me  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 
I  will  send  a  little  bound  Copy  of  the  Plays  for 
yourself,  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  if  you  will  take  them ;  so 
you  can  give  the  Lady  those  you  have  : — but,  which- 
ever way  you  like. 


XXVI. 

Lowestoft,  March  17/75. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

This  bit  of  Letter  is  written  to  apprise  you 
that,  having  to  go  to  Woodbridge  three  days  ago,  I 
sent  you  by  Post  a  little  Volume  of  the  Plays,  and  (what 
I  had  forgotten)  a  certain  little  Prose  Dialogue x  done 
up  with  them.  This  is  more  than  you  wanted,  but  so 
it  is.  The  Dialogue  is  a  pretty  thing  in  some  respects : 
but  disfigured  by  some  confounded  smart  writing  in 
parts :  And  this  is  all  that  needs  saying  about  the 
whole  concern.  You  must  not  think  necessary  to  say 
anything  more  about  it  yourself,  only  that  you  receive 
the  Book.  If  you  do  not,  in  a  month's  time,  I  shall 
suppose  it  has  somehow  lost  its  way  over  the  Atlantic : 
and  then  I  will  send  you  the  Plays  you  asked  for, 
stitched  together — and  those  only. 

I  hope  you  got  my  Letter  (which  you  had  not  got 
when   your   last   was  written)  about   Crabbe  :    for  I 

1  '  Euphranor.' 


1875]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  67 

explained  in  it  why  I  did  not  wish  to  trouble  you 
or  Mr.  Furness  any  more  with  such  an  uncertain 
business.  Anyhow,  I  must  ask  you  to  thank  him  for 
the  trouble  he  had  already  taken,  as  I  hope  you  know 
that  I  thank  you  also  for  your  share  in  it. 

I  scarce  found  a  Crocus  out  in  my  Garden  at  home, 
and  so  have  come  back  here  till  some  green  leaf 
shows  itself.  We  are  still  under  the  dominion  of 
North  East  winds,  which  keep  people  coughing  as 
well  as  the  Crocus  under  ground.  Well,  we  hope  to 
earn  all  the  better  Spring  by  all  this  Cold  at  its  outset. 

I  have  so  often  spoken  of  my  fear  of  troubling  you 
by  all  my  Letters,  that  I  won't  say  more  on  that  score. 
I  have  heard  no  news  of  Donne  since  I  wrote.  I  have 
been  trying  to  read  Gil  Bias  and  La  Fontaine  again : 
but,  as  before,  do  not  relish  either.1  I  must  get  back 
to  my  Don  Quixote  by  and  by. 

Yours  as  ever 

E.  F.G. 

I  wonder  if  this  letter  will  smell  of  Tobacco  :  for  it 
is  written  just  after  a  Pipe,  and  just  before  going 
to  bed. 


XXVII. 

Lowestoft:  April 9/75. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  wrote  you  a  letter  more  than  a  fortnight 
ago — mislaid   it — and   now   am    rather   ashamed  to 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  180. 


68    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

receive  one  from  you  thanking  me  beforehand  for  the 
mighty  Book  which  I  posted  you  a  month  ago.  I  only 
hope  you  will  not  feel  bound  to  acknowledge  [it] 
when  it  does  reach  you;  I  think  I  said  so  in  the 
Letter  I  wrote  to  go  along  with  it.  And  I  must  say- 
no  more  in  the  way  of  deprecating  your  Letters,  after 
what  you  write  me.  Be  assured  that  all  my  depreca- 
tions were  for  your  sake,  not  mine;  but  there's  an 
end  of  them  now. 

I  had  a  longish  letter  from  Donne  himself  some 
while  ago ;  indicating,  I  thought,  some  debility  of  Mind 
and  Body.  He  said,  however,  he  was  going  on  very 
well.  And  a  Letter  from  Mowbray  (three  or  four  days 
old)  speaks  of  his  Father  as  '  remarkably  well.'  But 
these  Donnes  won't  acknowledge  Bodily  any  more  than 
Mental  fault  in  those  they  love.  Blanche  had  been  ill, 
of  neuralgic  Cold  :  Valentia  not  well :  but  both  on 
the  mending  hand  now. 

It  has  been  indeed  the  Devil  of  a  Winter  :  and 
even  now — To-day  as  I  write — no  better  than  it  was 
three  months  ago.  The  Daffodils  scarce  dare  take 
April,  let  alone  March ;  and  I  wait  here  till  a  Green 
Leaf  shows  itself  about  Woodbridge. 

I  have  been  looking  over  four  of  Shakespeare's 
Plays,  edited  by  Clark  and  Wright :  editors  of  the 
'  Cambridge  Shakespeare.'  These  '  Select  Plays '  are 
very  well  done,  I  think  :  Text,  and  Notes ;  although 
with  somewhat  too  much  of  the  latter.  Hamlet, 
Macbeth,  Tempest,  and  Shylock — I  heard  them  talk- 
ing in  my  room — all  alive  about  me. 


i875]  •     TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  69 

By  the  by — How  did  you  read  '  To-morrow  and 
To-morrow,  etc'  All  the  Macbeths  I  have  heard 
took  the  opportunity  to  become  melancholy  when 
they  came  to  this  :  and,  no  doubt,  some  such  change 
from  Fury  and  Desperation  was  a  relief  to  the  Actor, 
and  perhaps  to  the  Spectator.  But  I  think  it  should 
all  go  in  the  same  Whirlwind  of  Passion  as  the 
rest :  Folly  ! — Stage  Play  ! — Farthing  Candle ;  Idiot, 
etc.  Macready  used  to  drop  his  Truncheon  when  he 
heard  of  the  Queen's  Death,  and  stand  with  his  Mouth 
open  for  some  while — which  didn't  become  him. 

I  have  not  seen  his  Memoir  :  only  an  extract  or 
two  in  the  Papers.  He  always  seemed  to  me  an 
Actor  by  Art  and  Study,  with  some  native  Passion  to 
inspire  him.  But  as  to  Genius — we  who  have  seen 
Kean ! 

I  don't  know  if  you  were  acquainted  with  Sir  A. 
Helps,1  whose  Death  (one  of  this  Year's  Doing)  is 
much  regretted  by  many.  I  scarcely  knew  him  except 
at  Cambridge  forty  years  ago  :  and  could  never  relish 
his  Writings,  amiable  and  sensible  as  they  are.  I 
suppose  they  will  help  to  swell  that  substratum  of 
Intellectual  Peat  (Carlyle  somewhere  calls  it)2  from 

1  Sir  Arthur  Helps  died  March  7th,  1875. 

2  The  passage  of  Carlyle  to  which  FitzGerald  refers  is  perhaps  in 
'Anti-Dryasdust,'  in  the  Introduction  to  Cromwell's  Letters  and 
Speeches.  '  By  very  nature  it  is  a  labyrinth  and  chaos,  this  that  we 
call  Human  History  ;  an  abatis  of  trees  and  brushwood,  a  world- 
wide jungle,  at  once  growing  and  dying.  Under  the  green  foliage 
and  blossoming  fruit-trees  of  To-day,  there  lie,  rotting  slower  or 
taster,  the  forests  of  all  other  Years  and  Days.  Some  have  rotted 
fast,  plants  of  annual  growth,  and  are  long  since  quite  gone  to 


70    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGEf#VL£    [1875 

[which]  one  or  two  living  Trees  stand  out  in  a 
Century.  So  Shakespeare  above  all  that  Old  Drama 
which  he  grew  amidst,  and  which  (all  represented  by 
him  alone)  might  henceforth  be  left  unexplored,  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  twigs  of  Leaves  gathered  here 
and  there — as  in  Lamb's  Specimens.  Is  Carlyle  him- 
self— with  all  his  Genius — to  subside  into  the  Level  ? 
Dickens,  with  all  his  Genius,  but  whose  Men  and 
Women  act  and  talk  already  after  a  more  obsolete 
fashion  than  Shakespeare's?  I  think  some  of 
Tennyson  will  survive,  and  drag  the  deader  part 
along  with  it,  I  suppose.  And  (I  doubt)  Thackeray's 
terrible  Humanity. 

And  I  remain  yours  ever  sincerely, 

A  very  small  Peat-contributor, 

E.  F.G. 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  Clark  and  Wright  Bowdlerize 
Shakespeare,  though  much  less  extensively  than 
Bowdler.  But  in  one  case,  I  think,  they  have  gone 
further — altering,  instead  of  omitting  :  which  is  quite 
wrong  ! 

inorganic  mould  ;  others  are  like  the  aloe,  growths  that  last  a 
thousand  or  three  thousand  years.'  Ste.  Beuve,  in  his  •  Nouveaux 
Lundis,'  (iv.  295),  has  a  similar  remark:  'Pour  un  petit  nombre 
d'arbres  qui  s'^levent  de  quelques  pieds  au-dessus  de  terre  et  qui 
s'apercoivent  de  loin,  il  y  a  partout,  en  literature,  de  cet  humus  et 
de  ce  detritus  vegetal,  de  ces  feuilles  accumul^es  et  entassees  qu'on 
ne  distingue  pas,  si  Ton  ne  se  baisse.'  At  the  end  of  his  copy  Fitz- 
Gerald  has  referred  to  this  as  '  Carlyle's  Peat.' 


1875]  T0   FANNY   KEMBLE  71 

XXVIII. 

Lowestoft  :  April  19/75. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Yesterday  I  wrote  you  a  letter :  enveloped 
it :  then  thought  there  was  something  in  it  you  might 
misunderstand — Yes  ! — the  written  word  across  the 
Atlantic  looking  perhaps  so  different  from  what  in- 
tended ;  so  kept  my  Letter  in  my  pocket,  and  went 
my  ways.  This  morning  your  Letter  of  April  3  is 
forwarded  to  me;  and  I  shall  re-write  the  one  thing 
that  I  .yesterday  wrote  about — as  I  had  intended  to 
do  before  your  Letter  came.  Only,  let  me  say  that 
I  am  really  ashamed  that  you  should  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  write  again  about  my  little,  little,  Book. 

Well — what  I  wrote  about  yesterday,  and  am  to-day 
about  to  re-write,  is  —  Macready's  Memoirs.  You 
asked  me  in  your  previous  Letter  whether  I  had  read 
them.  No — I  had  not :  and  had  meant  to  wait  till 
they  came  down  to  Half-price  on  the  Railway  Stall 
before  I  bought  them.  But  I  wanted  to  order  some- 
thing of  my  civil  Woodbridge  Bookseller  :  so  took 
the  course  of  ordering  this  Book,  which  I  am  now 
reading  at  Leisure  :  for  it  does  not  interest  me  enough 
to  devour  at  once.  It  is  however  a  very  unaffected 
record  of  a  very  conscientious  Man,  and  Artist ; 
conscious  (I  think)  that  he  was  not  a  great  Genius 
in  his  Profession,  and  conscious  of  his  defect  of  Self- 
control  in  his  Morals.     The  Book  is  almost  entirely 


72    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

about  himself,  his  Studies,  his  Troubles,  his  Consola- 
tions, etc. ;  not  from  Egotism,  I  do  think,  but  as  the 
one  thing  he  had  to  consider  in  writing  a  Memoir 
and  Diary.  Of  course  one  expects,  and  wishes,  that 
the  Man's  self  should  be  the  main  subject ;  but  one 
also  wants  something  of  the  remarkable  people  he 
lived  with,  and  of  whom  one  finds  little  here  but 
that  'So-and-so  came  and  went' — scarce  anything  of 
what  they  said  or  did,  except  on  mere  business ; 
Macready  seeming  to  have  no  Humour;  no  intuition 
into  Character,  no  Observation  of  those  about  him 
(how  could  he  be  a  great  Actor  then  ?) — Almost  the 
only  exception  I  have  yet  reached  is  his  Account  of 
Mrs.  Siddons,  whom  he  worshipped  :  whom  he  acted 
with  in  her  later  years  at  Country  Theatres :  and  who 
was  as  kind  to  him  as  she  was  even  then  heart-rending 
on  the  Stage.  He  was  her  Mr.  Beverley : *  '  a  very 
young  husband,'  she  told  him  :  but  '  in  the  right  way 
if  he  would  study,  study,  study — and  not  marry  till 
thirty.'  At  another  time,  when  he  was  on  the  stage, 
she  stood  at  the  side  scene,  called  out  'Bravo,  Sir, 
Bravo  ! '  and  clapped  her  hands — all  in  sight  of  the 
Audience,  who  joined  in  her  Applause.  Macready 
also  tells  of  her  falling  into  such  a  Convulsion,  as  it 
were,  in  Aspasia2  (what  a  subject  for  such  a  sacrifice!) 
that  the  Curtain  had  to  be  dropped,  and  Macready's 
Father,  and  Holman,  who  were  among  the  Audience, 
looked  at  each  other  to  see  which  was  whitest !     This 

1  In  The  Gamester.     See  '  Macready's  Reminiscences,'  i.  54-57. 

2  In  Rowe's  Tamerlane.    See  'Macready's  Reminiscences,'  i.  202. 


1875]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  73 

was  the  Woman  whom  people  somehow  came  to  look 
on  as  only  majestic  and  terrible — I  suppose,  after 
Miss  O'Neill  rose  upon  her  Setting. 

Well,  but  what  I  wrote  about  yesterday — a  passage 
about  you  yourself.  I  fancy  that  he  and  you  were 
very  unsympathetic  :  nay,  you  have  told  me  of  some 
of  his  Egotisms  toward  you,  '  who  had  scarce  learned 
the  rudiments  of  your  Profession '  (as  also  he  admits 
that  he  scarce  had).  But,  however  that  may  have 
been,  his  Diary  records,  '  Decr  20  (1838)  Went  to 
Covent  Garden  Theatre :  on  my  way  continued  the 
perusal  of  Mrs.  Butler's  Play,  which  is  a  work  of 
uncommon  power.  Finished  the  reading  of  Mrs. 
Butler's  Play,  which  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  of 
the  modern  Plays  I  have  seen — most  painful — almost 
shocking — but  full  of  Power,  Poetry  and  Pathos.  She 
is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  women  of  the  present 
Day.' 

So  you  see  that  if  he  thought  you  deficient  in  the 
Art  which  you  (like  himself)  had  unwillingly  to  resort 
to,  you  were  efficient  in  the  far  greater  Art  of  sup- 
plying that  material  on  which  the  Histrionic  must 
depend.  (N.B. — Which  play  of  yours?  Not  surely 
the  '  English  Tragedy '  unless  shown  to  him  in  MS.  ? * 
Come  :  I  have  sent  you  my  Translations  :  you  should 
give  me  your  Original  Plays.  When  I  get  home,  I 
will  send  you  an  old  Scratch  by  Thackeray  of  yourself 
in  Louisa  of  Savoy — shall  I  ?) 

1  Probably  the  English  Tragedy,  which  was  finished  in  October, 
1838.     See  '  Records  of  Later  Days,'  ii.  168. 


74    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

On  the  whole,  I  find  Macready  (so  far  as  I  have 
gone)  a  just,  generous,  religious,  and  affectionate 
Man ;  on  the  whole,  humble  too  !  One  is  well  content 
to  assure  oneself  of  this ;  but  it  is  not  worth  spending 
28s.  upon. 

Macready  would  have  made  a  better  Scholar — or 
Divine — than  Actor,  I  think  :  a  Gentleman  he  would 
have  been  in  any  calling,  I  believe,  in  spite  of  his 
Temper — which  he  acknowledges,  laments,  and  apolo- 
gizes for,  on  reflection. 

Now,  here  is  enough  of  my  small  writing  for  your 
reading.  I  have  been  able  to  read,  and  admire,  some 
Corneille  lately :  as  to  Racine — '  Ce  rtest  pas  mon 
homme]  as  Catharine  of  Russia  said  of  him.  Now 
I  am  at  Madame  de  Sevigne's  delightful  Letters  ;  I 
should  like  to  send  you  a  Bouquet  of  Extracts  :  but 
must  have  done  now,  being  always  yours 

E.  F.G. 

XXIX. 

Lowestoft  :  May  16/75. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  have  been  wishing  to  send  you  Carlyle's 
Norway  Kings,  and  oh  !  such  a  delightful  Paper  of 
Spedding's  on  the  Text  of  Richard  III.1  But  I  have 
waited  till  I  should  hear  from  you,  knowing  that  you 

1  In  the  Transactions  of  the  New  Shakspere  Society  for  1875-76. 
The  surviving  editor  of  the  '  Cambridge  Shakspeare '  does  not  at  all 
feel  that  Spedding's  criticism  '  smashed  '  the  theory  which  was  only 
put  forward  as  a  tentative  solution  of  a  perhaps  insoluble  problem. 


1875]  TO   FANNY    KEMBLE  75 

will  reply  !  And  not  feeling  sure,  till  I  hear,  whether 
you  are  not  on  your  way  to  England  Eastward  ho  ! — 
even  as  I  am  now  writing  ! — Or,  I  fancy — should  you 
not  be  well  ?  Anyhow,  I  shall  wait  till  some  authentic 
news  of  yourself  comes  to  me.  I  should  not  mind 
sending  you  Carlyle — why,  yes  !  I  will  send  him  ! 
But  old  Spedding — which  is  only  a  Proof — I  won't 
send  till  I  know  that  you  are  still  where  you  were  to 
receive  it — Oh !  such  a  piece  of  musical  criticism  ! 
without  the  least  pretence  to  being  Musick :  as  dry 
as  he  can  make  it,  in  fact.  But  he  does,  with  utmost 
politeness,  smash  the  Cambridge  Editors'  Theory 
about  the  Quarto  and  Folio  Text  of  R.  III. — in  a 
way  that  perhaps  Mr.  Furness  might  like  to  see. 

Spedding  says  that  Irving's  Hamlet  is  simply — 
hideous — a  strong  expression  for  Spedding  to  use. 
But — (lest  I  should  think  his  condemnation  was  only 
the  Old  Man's  fault  of  depreciating  all  that  is  new), 
he  extols  Miss  Fallen  Terry's  Portia  as  simply  a  perfect 
Performance:  remembering  (he  says)  all  the  while 
how  fine  was  Fanny  Kemble's.  Now,  all  this  you 
shall  read  for  yourself,  when  I  have  token  of  your 
Whereabout,  and  Howabout  :  for  I  will  send  you 
Spedding's  Letter,  as  well  as  his  Paper. 

Spedding  won't  go  and  see  Salvini's  Othello,  because 
he  does  not  know  Italian,  and  also  because  he  hears 
that  Salvini's  is  a  different  Conception  of  Othello  from 
Shakespeare's.  I  can't  understand  either  reason ;  but 
Spedding  is  (as  Carlyle  *  wrote  me  of  his  Bacon)  the 
1  See  '  Letters, '  ii.  177. 


76    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD   [1875 

'invincible,  and  victorious.'  At  any  rate,  I  can't 
beat  him.  Irving  I  never  could  believe  in  as  Hamlet, 
after  seeing  part  of  his  famous  Performance  of  a 
Melodrama  called  '  The  Bells  '  three  or  four  years  ago. 
But  the  Pollocks,  and  a  large  World  beside,  think 
him  a  Prodigy — whom  Spedding  thinks — a  Monster  ! 
To  this  Complexion  is  the  English  Drama  come. 

I  wonder  if  your  American  Winter  has  transformed 
itself  to  such  a  sudden  Summer  as  here  in  Old 
England.  I  returned  to  my  Woodbridge  three  weeks 
ago  :  not  a  leaf  on  the  Trees  :  in  ten  days  they  were 
all  green,  and  people — perspiring,  I  suppose  one 
must  say.  Now  again,  while  the  Sun  is  quite  as  Hot, 
the  Wind  has  swerved  round  to  the  East — so  as  one 
broils  on  one  side  and  freezes  on  t'other — and  I — 
the  Great  Twalmley1 — am  keeping  indoors  from  an 
Intimation  of  Bronchitis.  I  think  it  is  time  for  one 
to  leave  the  Stage  oneself. 

I  heard  from  Mowbray  Donne  some  little  while 
ago ;  as  he  said  nothing  (I  think)  of  his  Father,  I 
conclude  that  there  is  nothing  worse  of  him  to  be 
said.  He  (the  Father)  has  a  Review  of  Macready — 
laudatory,  I  suppose — in  the  Edinburgh,  and  Mr. 
Helen  Faucit  (Martin)  as  injurious  a  one  in  the 
Quarterly :  the  reason  of  the  latter  being  (it  is  sup- 
posed) because  Mrs.  H.  F.  is  not  noticed  except  just 
by  name.     To  this  Complexion  also  ! 

Ever  yours, 

E.  F.G. 

1  See  'Letters,'  ii.  198,  228,  and  Boswell's  'Johnson'  (ed.  Birkbeck 
Hill),  iv.  193. 


1875]  T0   FANNY    KEMBLE  77 

Since  writing  as  above,  your  Letter  comes ;  as  you 
do  not  speak  of  moving,  I  shall  send  Spedding  and 
Carlyle  by  Post  to  you,  in  spite  of  the  Loss  of 
Income  you  tell  me  of  which  would  (I  doubt)  close 
up  my  thoughts  some  while  from  such  speculations. 
I  do  not  think  you  will  take  trouble  so  to  heart. 
Keep  Spedding  for  me  :  Carlyle  I  don't  want  again. 
Tired  as  you — and  I — are  of  Shakespeare  Commen- 
taries, you  will  like  this. 


XXX. 

Lowestoft  :  July  22/75. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  have  abstained  from  writing  since  you 
wrote  me  how  busily  your  Pen  was  employed  for  the 
Press :  I  wished  more  than  ever  to  spare  you  the 
trouble  of  answering  me — which  I  knew  you  would 
not  forgo.  And  now  you  will  feel  called  upon,  I 
suppose,  though  I  would  fain  spare  you. 

Though  I  date  from  this  place  still,  I  have  been 
away  from  it  at  my  own  Woodbridge  house  for  two 
months  and  more ;  only  returning  here  indeed  to 
help  make  a  better  Holyday  for  a  poor  Lad  who  is 
shut  up  in  a  London  Office  while  his  Heart  is  all  for 
Out-of-Door,  Country,  Sea,  etc.  We  have  been 
having  wretched  Holyday  weather,  to  be  sure :  rain, 
mist,  and  wind ;  St.  S within  at  his  worst :  but  all 
better  than  the  hateful  London  Office — to  which  he 
must  return  the  day  after  To-morrow,  poor  Fellow  ! 


78    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

I  suppose  you  will  see — if  you  have  not  yet  seen — 
Tennyson's  Q.  Mary.  I  don't  know  what  to  say 
about  it ;  but  the  Times  says  it  is  the  finest  Play  since 
Shakespeare ;  and  the  Spectator  that  it  is  superior  to 
Henry  VIII.  Pray  do  you  say  something  of  it,  when 
you  write  : — for  I  think  you  must  have  read  it  before 
that  time  comes. 

Then  Spedding  has  written  a  delicious  Paper  in 
Fraser  about  the  late  Representation  of  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,  and  his  E.  Terry's  perfect  personation  of 
his  perfect  Portia.  I  cannot  agree  with  him  in  all  he 
says — for  one  thing,  I  must  think  that  Portia  made  '  a 
hole  in  her  manners  '  when  she  left  Antonio  trembling 
for  his  Life  while  she  all  the  while  [knew]  how  to 
defeat  the  Jew  by  that  knowledge  of  the  Venetian 
Law  which  (oddly  enough)  the  Doge  knew  nothing 
about.  Then  Spedding  thinks  that  Shylock  has  been 
so  pushed  forward  ever  since  Macklin's  time  as  to 
preponderate  over  all  the  rest  in  a  way  that  Shake- 
speare never  intended.1  But,  if  Shakespeare  did  not 
intend  this,  he  certainly  erred  in  devoting  so  much 
of  his  most  careful  and  most  powerful  writing  to  a 
Character  which  he  meant  to  be  subsidiary,  and  not 

1  FitzGerald  wrote  to  me  about  the  same  time  : 

"Spedding  has  (you  know)  a  delicious  little  Paper  about  the 
Merchant  of  Venice  in  July  Fraser: — but  I  think  he  is  wrong  in 
subordinating  Shylock  to  the  Comedy  Part.  If  that  were  meant  to 
be  so,  Williams  ['the  divine  Williams,'  as  some  Frenchman  called 
Shakespeare]  miscalculated,  throwing  so  much  of  his  very  finest 
writing  into  the  Jew's  Mouth  ;  the  downright  human  Nature  of 
which  makes  all  the  Love-Story  Child's  play,  though  very  beautiful 
Child's  play  indeed." 


t      .-  -  ...."■;  z  : :  z  z 


r     i:  - 


:•:  :  :  i  ::    :. 
Z* :  -    ~-    :t:.:   1  Z.:    Zz:  :    -;•:  vZZ 


H  :  :    :    i :  -   : :  -i :    — J    I : :        v  -  :  i    5  - 


: :    _  • 


:: 
-  .rv  <-:  ^: 


So    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

other  Arts  as  well  as  that  of  the  Drama.  Mozart 
couldn't  tell  how  he  made  a  Tune ;  even  a  whole 
Symphony,  he  said,  unrolled  itself  out  of  a  leading 
idea  by  no  logical  process.  Keats  said  that  no  Poetry 
was  worth  [anything]  unless  it  came  spontaneously, 
as  Leaves  to  a  Tree,  etc.1  I  have  no  faith  in  your 
Works  of  Art  done  on  Theory  and  Principle,  like 
Wordsworth,  Wagner,  Holman  Hunt,  etc. 

But,  one  thing  you  can  do  on  Theory,  and  carry  it 
well  into  Practice  :  which  is — to  write  your  Letter  on 
Paper  which  does  not  let  the  Ink  through,  so  that 
(according  to  your  mode  of  paging)  your  last  Letter 
was  crossed  :  I  really  thought  it  so  at  first,  and  really 
had  very  hard  work  to  make  it  out — some  parts 
indeed  still  defying  my  Eyes.  What  I  read  of  your 
remarks  on  Portia,  etc.,  is  so  good  that  I  wish  to  keep 
it :  but  still  I  think  I  shall  enclose  you  a  scrap  to 
justify  my  complaint  It  was  almost  by  Intuition, 
not  on  Theory,  that  I  deciphered  what  I  did.  Pray 
you  amend  this.  My  MS.  is  bad  enough,  and  on  that 
very  account  I  would  avoid  diaphanous  Paper.  Are 
you  not  ashamed  ? 

I  shall  send  you  Spedding's  beautiful  Paper  on  the 
Merchant  of  Venice 2  if  I  can  lay  hands  on  it :  but  at 
present  my  own  room  is  given  up  to  a  fourth  Niece 
(Angel  that  I  am  !)  You  would  see  that  Sfpedding] 
agrees  with  you  about  Portia,  and  in  a  way  that  I  am 

1  See  his  '  Life  and  Letters,'  p.  46. 

2  In   the    Cornhill  Magazine  for  July,   1875,    The  Merchant  of 
Venice  at  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre. 


1875]  TO   FANNY   KEMBLE  81 

sure  must  please  you.  But  (so  far  as  I  can  decipher 
that  fatal  Letter)  you  say  nothing  at  all  to  me  of  the 
other  Spedding  Paper  I  sent  to  you  (about  the 
Cambridge  Editors,  etc.,)  which  I  must  have  back 
again  indeed,  unless  you  wish  to  keep  it,  and  leave 
me  to  beg  another  Copy.  Which  to  be  sure  I  can 
do,  and  will,  if  your  heart  is  set  upon  it — which  I 
suppose  it  is  not  at  all. 

I  have  not  heard  of  Donne  for  so  long  a  time,  that 
I  am  uneasy,  and  have  written  to  Mowbray  to  hear. 
M[owbray]  perhaps  is  out  on  his  Holyday,  else  I 
think  he  would  have  replied  at  once.  And  '  no  news 
may  be  the  Good  News.' 

I  have  no  news  to  tell  of  myself;  I  am  much  as  I 
have  been  for  the  last  four  months :  which  is,  a  little 
ricketty.  But  I  get  out  in  my  Boat  on  the  River  three 
or  four  hours  a  Day  when  possible,  and  am  now  as 
ever  yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 


XXXII. 

[Oct.  4,  1875.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  duly  received  your  last  legible  Letter,  and 
Spedding's  Paper :  for  both  of  which  all  Thanks. 
But  you  must  do  something  more  for  me.  I  see  by 
Notes  and  Queries  that  you  are  contributing  Recol- 
lections to  some  American  Magazine ;  I  want  you  to 

6 


82    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD     [1875 

tell   me   where  I    can   get   this,    with   all   the   back 
Numbers  in  which  you  have  written. 

I  return  the  expected  favour  (Hibernice')  with  the 
enclosed  Prints,  one  of  which  is  rather  a  Curiosity : 
that  of  Mrs.  Siddons  by  Lawrence  when  he  was  cetat. 
13.  The  other,  done  from  a  Cast  of  herself  by  her- 
self, is  only  remarkable  as  being  almost  a  Copy  of 
this  early  Lawrence — at  least,  in  Attitude,  if  not  in 
Expression.     I  dare  say  you  have  seen  the  Cast  itself. 

And  now  for  a  Story  better  than  either  Print :  a 
story  to  which  Mrs.  Siddons'  glorious  name  leads  me, 
burlesque  as  it  is. 

You  may  know  there  is  a  French  Opera  of  Macbeth 
— by  Chelard.  This  was  being  played  at  the  Dublin 
Theatre — Viardot,  I  think,  the  Heroine.  However 
that  may  be,  the  Curtain  drew  up  for  the  Sleep-walk- 
ing Scene;  Doctor  and  Nurse  were  there,  while  a 
long  mysterious  Symphony  went  on — till  a  Voice 
from  the  Gallery  called  out  to  the  Leader  of  the 
Band,  Levey — '  Whisht !  Lavy,  my  dear — tell  us  now 
— is  it  a  Boy  or  a  Girl  ? '  This  Story  is  in  a  Book 
which  I  gave  2s.  for  at  a  Railway  Stall ;  called  Recol- 
lections of  an  Impresario,  or  some  such  name : 1  a 
Book  you  would  not  have  deigned  to  read,  and  so 
would  have  missed  what  I  have  read  and  remembered 
and  written  out  for  you. 

It  will  form  the  main  part  of  my  Letter  :  and  surely 
you  will  not  expect  anything  better  from  me. 

1  '  The  Enterprising  Impresario '  by  Walter  Maynard  (Thomas 
Willert  Beale),  1867,  pp.  273-4. 


1875]  T0   FANNY    KEMBLE  83 

Your  hot  Colorado  Summer  is  over  :  and  you  are 
now  coming  to  the  season  which  you — and  others 
beside  you — think  so  peculiarly  beautiful  in  America. 
We  have  no  such  Colours  to  show  here,  you  know : 
none  of  that  Violet  which  I  think  you  have  told  me 
of  as  mixing  with  the  Gold  in  the  Foliage.  Now  it  is 
that  I  hear  that  Spirit  that  Tennyson  once  told  of 
talking  to  himself  among  the  faded  flowers  in  the 
Garden-plots.  I  think  he  has  dropt  that  little  Poem x 
out  of  his  acknowledged  works;  there  was  indeed 
nothing  in  it,  I  think,  but  that  one  Image ;  and  that 
sticks  by  me  as  Queen  Mary  does  not. 

I  have  just  been  telling  some  Man  enquiring  in 
Notes  and  Queries  where  he  may  find  the  beautiful 
foolish  old  Pastoral  beginning — 

'  My  Sheep  I  neglected,  I  broke  my  Sheep-hook,  &c.'2 

which,  if  you  don't  know  it,  I  will  write  out  for  you, 
ready  as  it  offers  itself  to  my  Memory.  Mrs.  Frere 
of  Cambridge  used  to  sing  it  as  she  could  sing  the 
Classical  Ballad — to  a  fairly  expressive  tune  :  but 
there  is  a  movement  (Trio,  I  think)  in  one  of  dear 
old  Haydn's  Symphonies  almost  made  for  it.  Who 
else  but  Haydn  for  the  Pastoral !  Do  you  remember 
his  blessed  Chorus  of  '  Come,  gentle  Spring,'  that 
opens  the  Seasons  ?     Oh,  it  is  something  to  remember 

1  Beginning,  'A  spirit  haunts  the  year's  last  hours.'  It  first 
appeared  in  the  poems  of  1830,  p.  67,  and  is  now  included  in 
Tennyson's  Collected  Works.     See  '  Letters,'  ii.  256. 

2  By  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  father  of  the  first  Lord  Minto.  The 
query  appeared  25  Sept.  1875  ('  N.  &  Q.,'  5th  Series,  iv.  247),  and 
two  answers  are  given  at  p.  397,  but  not  by  E.  F.G. 


84    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

the  old  Ladies  who  sang  that  Chorus  at  the  old 
Ancient  Concerts  rising  with  Music  in  hand  to  sing 
that  lovely  piece  under  old  Greatorex's  Direction.  I 
have  never  heard  Haydn  and  Handel  so  well  as  in 
those  old  Rooms  with  those  old  Performers,  who  still 
retained  the  Tradition  of  those  old  Masters.  Now  it 
is  getting  Midnight ;  but  so  mild — this  October  4 — 
that  I  am  going  to  smoke  one  Pipe  outdoors — with  a 
little  Brandy  and  water  to  keep  the  Dews  off.  I  told 
you  I  had  not  been  well  all  the  Summer;  I  say  I 
begin  to  *  smell  the  Ground,' *  which  you  will  think 
all  Fancy.     But  I  remain  while  above  Ground 

Yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 

XXXIII. 

[October,  1875.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemele, 

My  last  Letter  asked  you  how  and  where 
I  could  get  at  your  Papers ;  this  is  to  say,  I  have  got 
them,  thanks  to  the  perseverance  of  our  Woodbridge 
Bookseller,  who  would  not  be  put  off  by  his  London 
Agent,  and  has  finally  procured  me  the  three 
Numbers  2  which  contain  your  '  Gossip.'  Now  believe 
me ;  I  am  delighted  with  it ;  and  only  wish  it  might 
run  on  as  long  as  I  live  :  which  perhaps  it  may.     Of 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  185. 

2  The  Atlantic  Monthly  for  August,  September,   and  October, 
1875- 


1875]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  85 

course  somewhat  of  my  Interest  results  from  the 
Times,  Persons,  and  Places  you  write  of;  almost  all 
more  or  less  familiar  to  me ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  that 
very  few  could  have  brought  all  before  me  as  you 
have  done — with  what  the  Painters  call,  so  free,  full, 
and  flowing  a  touch.  I  suppose  this  '  Gossip  '  is  the 
Memoir  you  told  me  you  were  about ;  three  or  four 
years  ago,  I  think :  or  perhaps  Selections  from  it ; 
though  I  hardly  see  how  your  Recollections  could  be 
fuller.  No  doubt  your  Papers  will  all  be  collected 
into  a  Book ;  perhaps  it  would  have  been  financially 
better  for  you  to  have  so  published  it  now.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  you  will  have  the  advantage  of 
writing  with  more  freedom  and  ease  in  the  Magazine, 
knowing  that  you  can  alter,  contract,  or  amplify,  in 
any  future  Re-publication.  It  gives  me  such  pleasure 
to  like,  and  honestly  say  I  like,  this  work — and — I 
know  I'm  right  in  such  matters,  though  I  can't  always 
give  the  reason  why  I  like,  or  don't  like,  Dr.  Fell : 
as  much  wiser  People  can — who  reason  themselves 
quite  wrong. 

I  suppose  you  were  at  School  in  the  Rue  d'Angou- 
leme  near  about  the  time  (you  don't  give  dates 
enough,  I  think — there's  one  fault  for  you  !) — about 
the  time  when  we  lived  there :  I  suppose  you  were 
somewhat  later,  however :  for  assuredly  my  Mother 
and  yours  would  have  been  together  often — Oh,  but 
your  Mother  was  not  there,  only  you — at  School. 
We  were  there  in  1817-18 — signalised  by  The  Great 
Murder — that  of  Fualdes — one  of  the  most  interesting 


86    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

events  in  all  History  to  me,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  For 
in  that  point  I  do  not  say  I  am  right.  But  that  Rue 
d'Angouleme — do  you  not  remember  the  house 
cornering  on  the  Champs  Elysees  with  some  orna- 
ments in  stone  of  Flowers  and  Garlands — belonging 
to  a  Lord  Courtenay,  I  believe?  And  do  you  re- 
member a  Pepiniere  over  the  way;  and,  over  that, 
seeing  that  Temple  in  the  Beaujon  Gardens  with  the 
Parisians  descending  and  ascending  in  Cars?  And 
(I  think)  at  the  end  of  the  street,  the  Church  of  St. 
Philippe  du  Roule  ?  Perhaps  I  shall  see  in  your 
next  Number  that  you  do  remember  all  these  things. 

Well :  I  was  pleased  with  some  other  Papers  in 
your  Magazine  :  as  those  on  V.  Hugo,1  and  Tennyson's 
Queen  Mary  : 2  I  doubt  not  that  Criticism  on  English 
Writers  is  likely  to  be  more  impartial  over  the 
Atlantic,  and  not  biassed  by  Clubs,  Coteries,  etc. 
I  always  say  that  we  in  the  Country  are  safer  Judges 
than  those  of  even  better  Wits  in  London  :  not  being 
prejudiced  so  much,  whether  by  personal  acquaintance, 
or  party,  or  Fashion.  I  see  that  Professor  Wilson 
said  much  the  same  thing  to  Willis  forty  years  ago. 

I  have  written  to  Donne  to  tell  him  of  your  Papers, 
and  that  I  will  send  him  my  Copies  if  he  cannot  get 
them.  Mowbray  wrote  me  word  that  his  Father, 
who  has  bought  the  house  in  Weymouth  Street,  was 
now  about  returning  to  it,  after  some  Alterations 
made.     Mowbray  talks  of  paying  me  a  little  Visit 

1  Atlantic  Monthly,  August,  1875,  p.  167,  by  T.  S.  Perry. 
2  Ibid.,  p.  240. 


1875]  T0    FANNY    KEMBLE  87 

here — he  and  his  Wife — at  the  End  of  this  month : — 
when  what  Good  Looks  we  have  will  all  be  gone. 

Farewell  for  the  present ;  I  count  on  your  Gossip  : 
and  believe  me  (what  it  serves  to  make  me  feel  more 
vividly) 

Your  sincere  old  Friend 

E.  F.G. 


XXXIV. 

[ATov:  1875.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

The  Mowbray  Donnes  have  been  staying 
some  days  ]  with  me — very  pleasantly.  Of  course  I 
got  them  to  tell  me  of  the  fine  things  in  London  : 
among  the  rest,  the  Artists  whose  Photos  they  sent 
me,  and  I  here  enclose.  The  Lady,  they  tell  me — 
(Spedding's  present  Idol) — is  better  than  her  Portrait 
— which  would  not  have  so  enamoured  Bassanio. 
Irving's,  they  say,  is  flattered.  But  'tis  a  handsome 
face,  surely ;  and  one  that  should  do  for  Hamlet — if 
it  were  not  for  that  large  Ear — do  you  notice?  I 
was  tempted  to  send  it  to  you,  because  it  reminds  me 
of  some  of  your  Family  :  your  Father,  most  of  all,  as 
Harlowe  has  painted  him  in  that  famous  Picture  of 
the  Trial  Scene.2  It  is  odd  to  me  that  the  fine 
Engraving  from  that  Picture — once  so  frequent — is 

1  From  Oct.  30  to  Nov.  4. 

2  The  Trial  of  Queen  Katharine  in  Henry  VIII.     Charles  Kemble 
acted  Cromwell. 


88    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

scarce  seen  now :  it  has  seemed  strange  to  me  to  meet 
People  who  never  even  heard  of  it. 

I  don't  know  why  you  have  a  little  Grudge  against 
Mrs.  Siddons — perhaps  you  will  say  you  have  not — 
all  my  fancy.  I  think  it  was  noticed  at  Cambridge 
that  your  Brother  John  scarce  went  to  visit  her  when 
she  was  staying  with  that  Mrs.  Frere,  whom  you  don't 
remember  with  pleasure.  She  did  talk  much  and 
loud :  but  she  had  a  fine  Woman's  heart  underneath, 
and  she  could  sing  a  classical  Song :  as  also  some  of 
Handel,  whom  she  had  studied  with  Bartleman.  But 
she  never  could  have  sung  the  Ballad  with  the  fulness 
which  you  describe  in  Mrs.  Arkwright.1 

Which,  together  with  your  mention  of  your  American 
isolation,  reminds  me  of  some  Verses  of  Hood,  with 
which  I  will  break  your  Heart  a  little.  They  are  not 
so  very  good,  neither :  but  I,  in  England  as  I  am,  and 
like  to  be,  cannot  forget  them. 

'  The  Swallow  with  Summer 

Shall  wing  o'er  the  Seas  ; 
The  Wind  that  I  sigh  to 

Shall  sing  in  your  Trees  ; 
The  Ship  that  it  hastens 

Your  Ports  will  contain — 
But  for  me — I  shall  never 

See  England  again.' 2 

It  always  runs  in  my  head  to  a  little  German  Air, 
common  enough  in  our  younger  days — which  I  will 

1  Atlantic  Monthly,  August,  1875,  p.  165. 

2  'The  Exile,'  quoted  from  memory. 


1875]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  89 

make  a  note  of,  and  you  will,  I  dare  say,  remember 
at  once. 

I  doubt  that  what  I  have  written  is  almost  as 
illegible  as  that  famous  one  of  yours  :  in  which  how- 
ever only  [paper]  was  in  fault : *  and  now  I  shall 
scarce  mend  the  matter  by  taking  a  steel  pen  instead 
of  that  old  quill,  which  certainly  did  fight  upon  its 
Stumps. 

Well  now — Professor  Masson  of  Edinburgh  has 
asked  me  to  join  him  and  seventy-nine  others  in 
celebrating  Carlyle's  eightieth  Birthday  on  December  4 
— with  the  Presentation  of  a  Gold  Medal  with 
Carlyle's  own  Effigy  upon  it,  and  a  congratulatory 
Address.  I  should  have  thought  such  a  Measure 
would  be  ridiculous  to  Carlyle ;  but  I  suppose  Masson 
must  have  ascertained  his  Pleasure  from  some  intimate 
Friend  of  C.'s :  otherwise  he  would  not  have  known 
of  my  Existence  for  one.  However  Spedding  and 
Pollock  tell  me  that,  after  some  hesitation  like  my 
own,  they  judged  best  to  consent.  Our  Names  are 
even  to  be  attached  somehow  to  a — White  Silk,  or 
Satin,  Scroll !  Surely  Carlyle  cannot  be  aware  of 
that  ?  I  hope  devoutly  that  my  Name  come  too  late 
for  its  Satin  Apotheosis;  but,  if  it  do  not,  I  shall 
apologise  to  Carlyle  for  joining  such  Mummery.  I 
only  followed  the  Example  of  my  Betters. 

Now  I  must  shut  up,  for  Photos  and  a  Line  of 
Music  is  to  come  in.     I  was  so  comforted  to  find  that 
your   Mother  had   some   hand   in    Dr.    Kitchener's 
1  See  letter  of  August  24,  1875. 


^         01 
TJNIVEB 


90    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

Cookery  Book,1  which  has  always  been  Guide, 
Philosopher,  and  Friend  in  such  matters.  I  can't 
help  liking  a  Cookery  Book. 

Ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

No  :  I  never  turned  my  tragic  hand  on  Fualdes  ; 
but  I  remember  well  being  taken  in  18 18  to  the 
Ambigu  Comique  to  see  the  '  Chateau  de  Paluzzi,' 
which  was  said  to  be  founded  on  that  great  Murder. 
I  still  distinctly  remember  a  Closet,  from  which  came 
some  guilty  Personage.  It  is  not  only  the  Murder 
itself  that  impressed  me,  but  the  Scene  it  was  enacted 
in ;  the  ancient  half-Spanish  City  of  Rodez,  with  its 
River  Arveyron,  its  lonely  Boulevards,  its  great 
Cathedral,  under  which  the  Deed  was  done  in  the 
1  Rue  des  Hebdomadiers.'  I  suppose  you  don't  see, 
or  read,  our  present  Whitechapel  Murder — a  nasty 
thing,  not  at  all  to  my  liking.  The  Name  of  the 
Murderer — as  no  one  doubts  he  is,  whatever  the 
Lawyers  may  disprove — is  the  same  as  that  famous 
Man  of  Taste  who  wrote  on  the  Fine  Arts  in  the 
London  Magazine  under  the  name  of  Janus  Weather- 
cock," and  poisoned  Wife,  Wife's  Mother  and  Sister 
after  insuring  their  Lives.  De  Quincey  (who  was 
one  of  the  Magazine)  has  one  of  his  Essays  about 
this  wretch. 

1  Atlantic  Monthly,  August,  1875,  p.  156. 

2  Thomas  Griffiths  Wainew  right.  De  Quincey's  account  of  him 
is  in  his  essay  on  Charles  Lamb  ('  Works,'  ed.  1862,  viii.  146).  His 
career  was  the  subject  of  a  story  by  Dickens,  called  '  Hunted 
Down.' 


1875]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  91 

Here  is  another  half-sheet  filled,  after  all :  I  am 
afraid  rather  troublesome  to  read.  In  three  or  four 
days  we  shall  have  another  Atlantic,  and  I  am  ever 
yours 

E.  F.G. 


XXXV. 

WOODBRIDGE  :  DeCT.  29/75. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

You  will  say  I  am  a  very  good  Creature 
indeed,  for  beginning  to  answer  your  Letter  the  very 
day  it  reaches  me.  But  so  it  happens  that  this  same 
day  also  comes  a  Letter  from  Laurence  the  Painter, 
who  tells  me  something  of  poor  Minnie's  Death,1 
which  answers  to  the  Query  in  your  Letter.  Laurence 
sends  me  Mrs.  Brookfield's  Note  to  him :  from  which 
I  quote  to  you — no ! — I  will  make  bold  to  send  you 
her  Letter  itself!  Laurence  says  he  is  generally 
averse  to  showing  others  a  Letter  meant  for  himself 
(the  little  Gentleman  that  he  is !),  but  he  ventures  in 
this  case,  knowing  me  to  be  an  old  friend  of  the 
Family.  And  so  I  venture  to  post  it  over  the  Atlantic 
to  you  who  take  a  sincere  Interest  in  them  also.  I 
wonder  if  I  am  doing  wrong? 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  mourning  comes  out  a  new 
Volume  of  Thackeray's  Drawings — or  Sketches — as 
I  foresaw  it  would  be,  too  much  Caricature,  not  so 
good  as  much  [of]  his  old  Punch ;  and  with  none  of 

1  Minnie  Thackeray  (Mrs.  Leslie  Stephen). 


92    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

the  better  things  I  wanted  them  to  put  in — for  his 
sake,  as  well  as  the  Community's.  I  do  not  wonder 
at  the  Publisher's  obstinacy,  but  I  wonder  that 
Annie  T.  did  not  direct  otherwise.  I  am  convinced 
I  can  hear  Thackeray  saying,  when  such  a  Book  as 
this  was  proposed  to  him — 'Oh,  come — there  has 
been  enough  of  all  this' — and  crumpling  up  the 
Proof  in  that  little  hand  of  his.  For  a  curiously 
little  hand  he  had,  uncharacteristic  of  the  grasp  of  his 
mind  :  I  used  to  consider  it  half  inherited  from  the 
Hindoo  people  among  whom  he  was  born.1 

I  dare  say  I  told  you  of  the  Proposal  to  congratulate 
Carlyle  on  his  eightieth  Birthday  j  and  probably  some 
Newspaper  has  told  you  of  the  Address,  and  the 
Medal,  and  the  White  Satin  Roll  to  which  our  eighty 
names  were  to  be  attached.  I  thought  the  whole 
Concern,  Medal,  Address,  and  Satin  Roll,  a  very 
Cockney  thing  ;  and  devoutly  hoped  my  own  illustrious 

1  About  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  me  : — 

'  A  dozen  years  ago  I  entreated  Annie  Thackeray,  Smith  &  Elder, 
&c,  to  bring  out  a  Volume  of  Thackeray's  better  Drawings.  Of 
course  they  wouldn't — now  Winclus  and  Chatto  have,  you  know, 
brought  out  a  Volume  of  his  inferior  :  and  now  Annie  T.  S.  &  E. 
prepare  a  Volume— when  it  is  not  so  certain  to  pay,  at  any  rate,  as 
when  W.  M.  T.  was  the  Hero  of  the  Day.  However,  I  send  them 
all  I  have :  pretty  confident  they  will  select  the  worst ;  of  course, 
for  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  have  any  other  than  copies  of  what 
1  have  :  but  I  should  like  the  World  to  acknowledge  he  could  do 
something  beside  the  ugly  and  ridiculous.  Annie  T.  sent  me  the 
enclosed  Specimen  :  very  careless,  but  full  of  Character.  I  can  see 
W.  M.  T.  drawing  it  as  he  was  telling  one  about  his  Scotch  Trip. 
That  disputatious  Scotchman  in  the  second  Row  with  Spectacles, 
and — teeth.  You  may  know  some  who  will  be  amused  at  this  : — but 
send  it  back,  please  :  no  occasion  to  write  beside.' 


1S75]  TO   FANNY   KEMBLE  93 

name  would  arrive  too  late.  I  could  not  believe 
that  Carlyle  would  like  the  Thing :  but  it  appears  by 
his  published  Answer  that  he  did.  He  would  not, 
ten  years  ago,  I  think.  Now — talking  of  illustrious 
names,  etc.,  oh,  my  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  your  sincere 
old  Regard  for  my  Family  and  myself  has  made  you 
say  more — of  one  of  us,  at  least — than  the  World  will 
care  to  be  told :  even  if  your  old  Regard  had  not 
magnified  our  lawful  Deserts.  But  indeed  it  has 
done  so  :  in  Quality,  as  well  as  in  Quantity.  I  know 
I  am  not  either  squeamishly,  or  hypocritically,  saying 
ail  this :  I  am  sure  I  know  myself  better  than  you  do, 
and  take  a  juster  view  of  my  pretensions.  I  think 
you  Kembles  are  almost  Donnes  in  your  determined 
regard,  and  (one  may  say)  Devotion  to  old  Friends, 
etc.  A  rare — a  noble — Failing  !  Oh,  dear  ! — Well, 
I  shall  not  say  any  more :  you  will  know  that  I  do 
not  the  less  thank  you  for  publickly  speaking  of  [me] 
as  I  never  was  spoken  of  before — only  too  well. 
Indeed,  this  is  so;  and  when  you  come  to  make  a 
Book  of  your  Papers,  I  shall  make  you  cut  out 
something.  Don't  be  angry  with  me  now — no,  I 
know  you  will  not.1 

1  When  I  was  preparing  the  first  edition  of  FitzGerald's  Letters 
I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Kemble  for  permission  to  quote  the  passage  from 
her  Gossip  which  is  here  referred  to.    She  replied  (11  Dec,  1883)  : — 

'  I  have  no  objection  whatever  to  your  quoting  what  I  said  of 
Edward  Fitzgerald  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  but  I  suppose  you 
know  that  it  was  omitted  from  Bentley's  publication  of  my  book  at 
Edward's  own  desire.  He  did  not  certainly  knock  me  on  the  head 
with  Dr.  Johnson's  sledge-hammer,  but  he  did  make  me  feel  painfully 
that  I  had  been  guilty  of  the  impertinence  of  praising.' 

I  did  not  then  avail  myself  of  the  permission  so  readily  granted, 


94    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1875 

The  Day  after  To-morrow  I  shall  have  your  new 
Number ;  which  is  a  Consolation  (if  needed)  for  the 
Month's  going.     And  I  am  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 


but  I  venture  to  do  so  now,  in  the  belief  that  the  publicity  from 
which  his  sensitive  nature  shrank  during  his  lifetime  may  now 
without  impropriety  be  given  to  what  was  written  in  all  sincerity  by 
one  of  his  oldest  and  most  intimate  friends.  It  was  Mrs.  Kemble 
who  described  him  as  '  an  eccentric  man  of  genius,  who  took  more 
pains  to  avoid  fame  than  others  do  to  seek  it,'  and  this  description 
is  fully  borne  out  by  the  account  she  gave  of  him  in  the  offending 
passage  which  follows  : — 

"That  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  is  among  the  most  vivid  memories  of  my 
girlish  days.  She  and  her  husband  were  kind  and  intimate  friends 
of  my  father  and  mother.  He  was  a  most  amiable  and  genial  Irish 
gentleman,  with  considerable  property  in  Ireland  and  Suffolk,  and 
a  fine  house  in  Portland  Place,  and  had  married  his  cousin,  a  very 
handsome,  clever,  and  eccentric  woman.  I  remember  she  always 
wore  a  bracelet  of  his  hair,  on  the  massive  clasp  of  which  were 
engraved  the  words,  '  Stesso  sangue,  stessa  sorie.'  I  also  remember, 
as  a  feature  of  sundry  dinners  at  their  house,  the  first  gold  dessert 
and  table  ornaments  that  I  ever  saw,  the  magnificence  of  which 
made  a  great  impression  upon  me ;  though  I  also  remember  their 
being  replaced,  upon  Mrs.  Fitzgerald's  wearying  of  them,  by  a  set 
of  ground  glass  and  dead  and  burnished  silver,  so  exquisite  that  the 
splendid  gold  service  was  pronounced  infinitely  less  tasteful  and 
beautiful.  One  member  of  her  family — her  son  Edward  Fitzgerald — 
has  remained  my  friend  till  this  day.  His  parents  and  mine  are 
dead.  Of  his  brothers  and  sisters  I  retain  no  knowledge,  but  with 
him  I  still  keep  up  an  affectionate  and  to  me  most  valuable  and 
interesting  correspondence.  He  was  distinguished  from  the  rest  of 
his  family,  and  indeed  from  most  people,  by  the  possession  of  very 
rare  intellectual  and  artistic  gifts.  A  poet,  a  painter,  a  musician, 
an  admirable  scholar  and  writer,  if  he  had  not  shunned  notoriety  as 
sedulously  as  most  people  seek  it,  he  would  have  achieved  a  foremost 
place  among  the  eminent  men  of  his  day,  and  left  a  name  second  to 
that  of  very  few  of  his  contemporaries.  His  life  was  spent  in  literary 
leisure,  or  literary  labours  of  love  of  singular  excellence,  which  he 
never  cared  to  publish  beyond  the  circle  of  his  intimate  friends  : 
Euphranor,  Polonius,  collections  of  dialogues  full  of  keen  wisdom, 


1 875]  TO  FANNY   KEMBLE  95 

Oh,  I  must  add — The  Printing  is  no  doubt  the 
more  legible  ;  but  I  get  on  very  well  with  your  MS. 
when  not  crossed.1 

tine  observation,  and  profound  thought ;  sterling  philosophy  written 
in  the  purest,  simplest  and  raciest  English ;  noble  translations, 
or  rather  free  adaptations  of  Calderon's  two  finest  dramas,  The 
Wonderful  Magician  and  Life's  a  Dream,  and  a  splendid  paraphrase 
of  the  Agamemnon  of  ^Eschylus,  which  fills  its  reader  with  regret 
that  he  should  not  have  Englished  the  whole  of  the  great  trilogy 
with  the  same  severe  sublimity.  In  America  this  gentleman  is 
better  known  by  his  translation  or  adaptation  (how  much  more  of  it 
is  his  own  than  the  author's  I  should  like  to  know  if  I  were  Irish) 
of  Omar  Khayyam,  the  astronomer-poet  of  Persia.  Archbishop 
Trench,  in  his  volume  on  the  life  and  genius  of  Calderon,  frequently 
refers  to  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  translations,  and  himself  gives  a  version 
of  Life's  a  Dream,  the  excellence  of  which  falls  short,  however,  of 
his  friend's  finer  dramatic  poem  bearing  the  same  name,  though  he 
has  gallantly  attacked  the  difficulty  of  rendering  the  Spanish  in 
English  verse.  While  these  were  Edward  Fitzgerald's  studies  and 
pursuits,  he  led  a  curious  life  of  almost  entire  estrangement  from 
society,  preferring  the  companionship  of  the  rough  sailors  and 
fishermen  of  the  Suffolk  coast  to  that  of  lettered  folk.  He  lived 
with  them  in  the  most  friendly  intimacy,  helping  them  in  their  sea 
ventures,  and  cruising  about  with  one,  an  especially  fine  sample  of 
his  sort,  in  a  small  fishing-smack  which  Edward  Fitzgerald's  bounty- 
had  set  afloat,  and  in  which  the  translator  of  Calderon  and  zEschylus 
passed  his  time,  better  pleased  with  the  fellowship  and  intercourse 
of  the  captain  and  crew  of  his  small  fishing  craft  than  with  that  of 
more  educated  and  sophisticated  humanity.  He  and  his  brothers 
were  school-fellows  of  my  eldest  brother  under  Dr.  Malkin,  the 
master  of  the  grammar  school  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds." 

1  Mrs.  Kemble's  letter  was  written  with  a  type-writer  (see 
'  Further  Records,'  i.  198,  240,  247).  It  was  given  by  FitzGerald 
to  Mr.  F.  Spalding,  now  of  the  Colchester  Museum,  through  whose 
kindness  I  am  enabled  to  quote  it  : — 

'York  Farm,  Branchtown. 

'  Tuesday,  Dec.  14,  1875. 

'  My  dear  Edward  Fitzgerald, 

'  I  have  got  a  printing-machine  and  am  going  to  try  and 
write  to  you  upon  it  and  see  if  it  will  suit  your  eyes  better  than  my 


96    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1876 

Donne,  I  hear,  is  fairly  well.  Mowbray  has  had 
a  Lift  in  his  Inland  Revenue  Office,  and  now  is 
secure,  I  believe,  of  Competence  for  Life.  Charles 
wrote  me  a  kindly  Letter  at  Christmas :  he  sent  me 
his  own  Photo :  and  then  (at  my  Desire)  one  of  his 
wife : — Both  of  which  I  would  enclose,  but  that  my 
Packet  is  already  bulky  enough.  It  won't  go  off 
to-night  when  it  is  written — for  here  (absolutely  !) 
comes  my  Reader  (8  p.m.)  to  read  me  a  Story  (very 
clever)  in  All  the  Year  Round,  and  no  one  to  go  to 
Post  just  now. 

Were  they  not  pretty  Verses  by  Hood  ?  I  thought 
to  make  you  a  little  miserable  by  them : — but  you 
take  no  more  notice  than — what  you  will. 

Good  Night !  Good  Bye  !— Now  for  Mrs.  Trollope's 
Story,  entitled  '  A  Charming  Fellow ' — (very  clever). 

XXXVI. 

Woodhridge:  Febr  :  2/76. 
Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  I  have  done  you  a 
little  good  turn.  Some  days  ago  I  was  talking  to  my 
Brother  John  (I  dared  not  show  him  !)  of  what  you 
had  said  of  my  Family  in  your  Gossip.  He  was 
extremely  interested  :  and  wished  much  that  I  [would] 

scrawl  of  handwriting.  Thank  you  for  the  Photographs  and  the 
line  of  music ;  I  know  that  old  bit  of  tune,  it  seems  to  me.  I  think 
Mr.  Irving's  face  more  like  Young's  than  my  Father's.  Tom 
Taylor,  years  ago,  told  me  that  Miss  Ellen  Terry  would  be  a 
consummate  comic  actress.  Portia  should  never  be  without  some 
one  to  set  her  before  the  Public.     She  is  my  model  woman.' 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  97 

convey  you  his  old  hereditary  remembrances.  But, 
beside  that,  he  wished  you  to  have  a  Miniature  of 
your  Mother  which  my  Mother  had  till  she  died. 
It  is  a  full  length ;  in  a  white  Dress,  with  blue  Scarf, 
looking  and  tending  with  extended  Arms  upward  in  a 
Blaze  of  Light.  My  Brother  had  heard  my  Mother's 
History  of  the  Picture,  but  could  not  recall  it.  I 
fancy  it  was  before  your  Mother's  Marriage.  The 
Figure  is  very  beautiful,  and  the  Face  also  :  like  your 
Sister  Adelaide,  and  your  Brother  Henry  both.  I 
think  you  will  be  pleased  with  this  :  and  my  Brother 
is  very  pleased  that  you  should  have  it.  Now,  how 
to  get  it  over  to  you  is  the  Question ;  I  believe  I 
must  get  my  little  Quaritch,  the  Bookseller,  who  has 
a  great  American  connection,  to  get  it  safely  over 
to  you.  But  if  you  know  of  any  surer  means,  let 
me  know.  It  is  framed :  and  would  look  much 
better  if  some  black  edging  were  streaked  into  the 
Gold  Frame ;  a  thing  I  sometimes  do  only  with  a 
strip  of  Black  Paper.  The  old  Plan  of  Black  and 
Gold  Frames  is  much  wanted  where  Yellow  pre- 
dominates in  the  Picture.  Do  you  know  I  have  a 
sort  of  Genius  for  Picture-framing,  which  is  an  Art 
People  may  despise,  as  they  do  the  Milliner's :  but 
you  know  how  the  prettiest  Face  may  be  hurt,  and 
the  plainest  improved,  by  the  Bonnet;  and  I  find 
that  (like  the  Bonnet,  I  suppose)  you  can  only  judge 
of  the  Frame,  by  trying  it  on.  I  used  to  tell  some 
Picture  Dealers  they  had  better  hire  me  for  such 
Millinery :  but  I  have  not  had  much  Scope  for  my 

7 


93    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD    [1876 

Art  down  here.  So  now  you  have  a  little  Lecture 
along  with  the  Picture. 

Now,  as  you  are  to  thank  me  for  this  good  turn 
done  to  you,  so  have  I  to  thank  you  for  Ditto  to 
me.  The  mention  of  my  little  Quaritch  reminds  me. 
He  asked  me  for  copies  of  Agamemnon,  to  give  to 
some  of  his  American  Customers  who  asked  for 
them ;  and  I  know  from  whom  they  must  have  some- 
how heard  of  it.  And  now,  what  Copies  I  had  being 
gone,  he  is  going,  at  his  own  risk,  to  publish  a  little 
Edition.  The  worst  is,  he  will  print  it  pretentiously, 
I  fear,  as  if  one  thought  it  very  precious :  but  the 
Truth  is,  I  suppose  he  calculates  on  a  few  Buyers 
who  will  give  what  will  repay  him.  One  of  my 
Patrons,  Professor  Norton,  of  Cambridge  Mass.,  has 
sent  me  a  second  Series  of  Lowell's  '  Among  my 
Books,'  which  I  shall  be  able  to  acknowledge  with 
sincere  praise.  I  had  myself  bought  the  first  Series. 
Lowell  may  do  for  English  Writers  something  as 
Ste.  Beuve  has  done  for  French  :  and  one  cannot 
give  higher  Praise.1 

There  has  been  an  absurd  Bout  in  the  Athenaeum a 
between  Miss  Glyn  and  some  Drury  Lane  Authorities. 
She  wrote  a  Letter  to  say  that  she  would  not  have 
played  Cleopatra  in  a  revival  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
for  ^1000  a  line,  I  believe,  so  curtailed  and  mangled 
was  it.     Then  comes  a  Miss  Wallis,  who  played  the 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  192. 

2  See  the  Athenceum  for  Jan.  1,  15,  22,  29,  1876. 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  99 

Part,  to  declare  that  'the  Veteran'  (Miss  G.)  had 
wished  to  play  the  Part  as  it  was  acted  :  and  further- 
more comes  Mr.  Halliday,  who  somehow  manages 
and  adapts  at  D.  L.,  to  assert  that  the  Veteran  not 
only  wished  to  enact  the  Desecration,  but  did  enact 
it  for  many  nights  when  Miss  Wallis  was  indisposed. 
Then  comes  Isabel  forward  again — but  I  really  forget 
what  she  said.  I  never  saw  her  but  once — in  the 
Duchess  of  Main — very  well :  better,  I  dare  say,  than 
anybody  now ;  but  one  could  not  remember  a  Word, 
a  Look,  or  an  Action.  She  speaks  in  her  Letter  of 
being  brought  up  in  the  grand  School  and  Tradition 
of  the  Kembles. 

I  am  glad,  somehow,  that  you  liked  Macready's 
Reminiscences :  so  honest,  so  gentlemanly  in  the 
main,  so  pathetic  even  in  his  struggles  to  be  a  better 
Man  and  Actor.  You,  I  think,  feel  with  him  in 
your  Distaste  for  the  Profession. 

I  write  you  tremendous  long  Letters,  which  you 
can  please  yourself  about  reading  through.  I  shall 
write  Laurence  your  message  of  Remembrance  to 
him.  I  had  a  longish  Letter  from  Donne,  who  spoke 
of  himself  as  well  enough,  only  living  by  strict  Rule 
in  Diet,  Exercise,  etc. 

We  have  had  some  remarkable  Alternations  of 
Cold  and  Hot  here  too :  but  nothing  like  the 
extremes  you  tell  me  of  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Page. 

Lionel  Tennyson  (second  Son),  who  answered  my 
half-yearly  Letter  to  his  father,  tells  me   they  had 


ioo  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

heard  that  Annie  Thackeray  was  well  in  health,  but — 
as  you  may  imagine  in  Spirits. 

And  I  remain  yours  always 

E.  F.G. 
How  is  it  my  Atlantic  Monthly  is  not  yet  come  ? 


XXXVII. 

Woodbridge  :  Fcbr :  17/76. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  ought  to  have  written  before  to  apprise 
you  of  your  Mother's  Miniature  being  sent  off — by 
Post.  On  consideration,  we  judged  that  to  be  the 
safest  and  speediest  way  :  the  Post  Office  here  telling 
us  that  it  was  not  too  large  or  heavy  so  to  travel : 
without  the  Frame.  As,  however,  our  Woodbridge 
Post  Office  is  not  very  well-informed,  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  hear  it  has  reached  you,  in  its  double  case : 
wood  within,  and  tin  without  (quite  unordered  and 
unnecessary),  which  must  make  you  think  you  receive 
a  present  of  Sardines.  You  lose,  you  see,  the  Benefit 
of  my  exalted  Taste  in  respect  of  Framing,  which 
I  had  settled  to  perfection.  Pray  get  a  small  Frame, 
concaving  inwardly  (Ogee  pattern,  I  believe),  which 
leads  the  Eyes  into  the  Picture :  whereas  a  Frame 
convexing  outwardly  leads  the  Eye  away  from  the 
Picture;  a  very  good  thing  in  many  cases,  but  not 
needed  in  this.  I  dare  say  the  Picture  (faded  as 
it  is)  will  look  poor  to  you  till  enclosed  and  set  off 
by  a  proper   Frame.     And   the   way  is,    as  with   a 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  101 

Bonnet  (on  which  you  know  much  depends  even  with 
the  fairest  face),  to  try  one  on  before  ordering  it 
home.  That  is,  if  you  choose  to  indulge  in  some 
more  ornamental  Frame  than  the  quite  simple  one 
I  have  before  named.  Indeed,  I  am  not  sure  if  the 
Picture  would  not  look  best  in  a  plain  gold  Flat 
(as  it  is  called)  without  Ogee,  or  any  ornament 
whatsoever.  But  try  it  on  first :  and  then  you  can 
at  least  please  yourself,  if  not  the  Terrible  Modiste 
who  now  writes  to  you.  My  Brother  is  very  anxious 
you  should  have  the  Picture,  and  wrote  to  me  again 
to  send  you  his  hereditary  kind  Regards.  I  ought 
to  be  sending  you  his  Note — which  I  have  lost. 
Instead  of  that,  I  enclose  one  from  poor  Laurence 
to  whom  I  wrote  your  kind  message ;  and  am  as 
ever 

Yours 

E.  F.G. 
You  will  let  me  know  if  the  Picture  has  not  arrived 
before  this  Note  reaches  you  ? 


XXXVIII. 

Lowestoft  :  March  16/76. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Directly   that    you   mentioned    '  Urania,'   I 
began   to  fancy  I  remembered   her  too.1     And   we 

1  In  her  'Further  Records,' ,i.  250,  Mrs.  Kemble  wrote,  March 
nth,  1876:— 

'  Last  week  my  old  friend  Edward  Fitzgerald  (Omar  Kyam,  you 


io2   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

are  both  right ;  I  wrote  to  a  London  friend  to  look 
out  for  the  Engraving  :  and  I  post  it  to  you  along 
with  this  Letter.  If  it  do  not  reach  you  in  some 
three  weeks,  let  me  know,  and  I  will  send  another. 

The  Engraving  stops  short  before  the  Feet :  the 
Features  are  coarser  than  the  Painting :  which  makes 
me  suppose  that  it  (Engraving)  is  from  the  Painting  : 
or  from  some  Painting  of  which  yours  is  a  Copy — (I 
am  called  off  here  to  see  the  Procession  of  Batty's 
Circus  parade  up  the  street) — 

The  Procession  is  past :  the  Clowns,  the  Fine 
Ladies  (who  should  wear  a  little  Rouge  even  by 
Daylight),  the  '  performing '  Elephants,  the  helmeted 
Cavaliers,  and  last,  the  Owner  (I  suppose)  as  'the 
modern  Gentleman '  driving  four-in-hand. 

This  intoxication  over,  I  return  to  my  Duties — 
to  say  that  the  Engraving  is  from  a  Painting  by 
'  P.  Jean/  engraved  by  Vendramini :  published  by 
John  Thompson  in  1802,  and  dedicated  to  the  '  Hon. 
W.  R.  Spencer ' — (who,  I  suppose,  was  the  *  Vers-de 
Societe '  Man  of  the  Day ;  and  perhaps  the  owner 
of  the    original :    whether   now   yours,   or   not.     All 

know),  sent  me  a  beautiful  miniature  of  my  mother,  which  his 
mother — her  intimate  friend — had  kept  till  her  death,  and  which 
had  been  painted  for  Mrs.  Fitzgerald.  It  is  a  full-length  figure, 
very  beautifully  painted,  and  very  like  my  mother.  Almost  imme- 
diately after  receiving  this  from  England,  my  friend  Mr.  Horace 
Furness  came  out  to  see  me.  He  is  a  great  collector  of  books  and 
prints,  and  brought  me  an  old  engraving  of  my  mother  in  the 
character  of  Urania,  which  a  great  many  years  ago  I  remember 
to  have  seen,  and  which  was  undoubtedly  the  original  of  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald's  miniature.  I  thought  the  coincidence  of  their  both 
reaching  me  at  the  same  time  curious. ' 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  103 

this  I  tell  you  in  case  the  Print  should  not  arrive 
in  fair  time  :  and  you  have  but  to  let  me  know,  and 
another  shall  post  after  it. 

I  have  duly  written  my  Brother  your  thanks  for  his 
Present,  and  your  sincere  Gratification  in  possessing 
it.  He  is  very  glad  it  has  so  much  pleased  you.  But 
he  can  only  surmise  thus  much  more  of  its  history — 
that  it  belonged  to  my  Grandfather  before  my  Mother : 
he  being  a  great  lover  of  the  Theatre,  and  going 
every  night  I  believe  to  old  Covent  Garden  or  old 
Drury  Lane  —  names  really  musical  to  me — old 
Melodies. 

I  think  I  wrote  to  you  about  the  Framing.  I  always 
say  of  that,  as  of  other  Millinery  (on  which  so  much 
depends),  the  best  ■  way  is — to  try  on  the  Bonnet 
before  ordering  it ;  which  you  can  do  by  the  materials 
which  all  Carvers  and  Gilders  in  this  Country  keep 
by  them.  I  have  found  even  my  Judgment— the  Great 
Twalmley's  Judgment — sometimes  thrown  out  by  not 
condescending  to  this ;  in  this,  as  in  so  many  other 
things,  so  very  little  making  all  the  Difference.  I 
should  not  think  that  Black  next  the  Picture  would 
do  so  well :  but  try,  try :  try  on  the  Bonnet :  and  if 
you  please  yourself — inferior  Modiste  as  you  are — 
why,  so  far  so  good. 

Donne,  who  reports  himself  as  very  well  (always 
living  by  Discipline  and  Rule),  tells  me  that  he  has 
begged  you  to  return  to  England  if  you  would  make 
sure  of  seeing  him  again.  I  told  Pollock  of  your 
great    Interest  in  Macready  :  I  too  find  that  I  am 


io|  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1876 

content  to  have  bought  the  Book,  and  feel  more 
interest  in  the  Man  than  in  the  Actor.  My  Mother 
used  to  know  him  once :  but  I  never  saw  him  in 
private  till  once  at  Pollock's  after  his  retirement : 
when  he  sat  quite  quiet,  and  (as  you  say)  I  was  sorry 
not  to  have  made  a  little  Advance  to  him,  as  I  heard 
he  had  a  little  wished  to  see  me  because  of  that  old 
Acquaintance  with  my  Mother.  I  should  like  to  have 
told  him  how  much  I  liked  much  of  his  Performance  ; 
asked  him  why  he  would  say  '  Amen  stu-u-u-u-ck  in 
my  Throat'  (which  was  a  bit  of  wrong,  as  well  as 
vulgar,  Judgment,  I  think).  But  I  looked  on  him  as 
the  great  Man  of  the  Evening,  unpresuming  as  he 
was :  and  so  kept  aloof,  as  I  have  ever  done  from  all 
Celebrities — yourself  among  them — who  I  thought 
must  be  wearied  enough  of  Followers  and  Devotees — 
unless  those  of  Note. 

I  am  now  writing  in  the  place — in  the  room — from 
which  I  wrote  ten  years  ago — it  all  recurs  to  me — 
with  Montaigne  for  my  Company,  and  my  Lugger 
about  to  be  built.  Now  I  have  brought  Madame  de 
Sevigne'  (who  loved  Montaigne  too — the  capital 
Woman  !)  and  the  Lugger — Ah,  there  is  a  long  sad 
Story  about  that ! — which  I  won't  go  into — 

Little  Quaritch  seems  to  have  dropt  Agamemnon, 
Lord  of  Hosts,  for  the  present :  and  I  certainly  am 
not  sorry,  for  I  think  it  would  only  have  been  abused 
by  English  Critics :  with  some,  but  not  all,  Justice. 
You  are  very  good  in  naming  your  American  Publisher, 
but  I  suppose  it  must  be  left  at  present  with  Quaritch, 


1876]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  105 

to  whom  I  wrote  a  '  Permit,'  so  long  as  I  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it. 

Ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 


XXXIX. 

[Lowestoft,  Aprils  1876.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

From  Lowestoft  still  I  date :  as  just  ten 
years  ago  when  I  was  about  building  a  Lugger,  and 
reading  Montaigne.  The  latter  holds  his  own  with 
me  after  three  hundred  years  :  and  the  Lugger  does 
not  seem  much  the  worse  for  her  ten  years'  wear, 
so  well  did  she  come  bouncing  between  the  Piers 
here  yesterday,  under  a  strong  Sou'-Wester.  My 
•Great  Captain  has  her  no  more;  he  has  what  they 
call  a  '  Scotch  Keel '  which  is  come  into  fashion  :  her 
too  I  see :  and  him  too  steering  her,  broader  and 
taller  than  all  the  rest:  fit  to  be  a  Leader  of  Men, 
Body  and  Soul  \  looking  now  Ulysses-like.  Two  or 
three  years  ago  he  had  a  run  of  constant  bad  luck ; 
and,  being  always  of  a  grand  convivial  turn,  treating 
Everybody,  he  got  deep  in  Drink,  against  all  his 
Promises  to  me,  and  altogether  so  lawless,  that  I 
brought  things  to  a  pass  between  us.  '  He  should  go 
on  with  me  if  he  would  take  the  Tee-total  Pledge  for 
one  year ' — *  No — he  had  broken  his  word,'  he  said, 
'  and  he  would  not  pledge  it  again,'  much  as  he  wished 
to  go  on  with  me.     That,  you  see,  was  very  fine  in 


106   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

him ;  he  is  altogether  fine — A  Great  Man,  I  maintain 
it :  like  one  of  Carlyle's  old  Norway  Kings,  with  a 
wider  morality  than  we  use ;  which  is  very  good  and 
fine  (as  this  Captain  said  to  me)  'for  you  who  are 
born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  your  mouths.'  I  did  not 
forget  what  Carlyle  too  says  about  Great  Faults  in 
Great  Men :  even  in  David,  the  Lord's  Anointed. 
But  I  thought  best  to  share  the  Property  with  him  and 
let  him  go  his  way.  He  had  always  resented  being 
under  any  Control,  and  was  very  glad  to  be  his  own 
sole  Master  again  :  and  yet  clung  to  me  in  a  wild  and 
pathetic  way.  He  has  not  been  doing  better  since : 
and  I  fear  is  sinking  into  disorder. 

This  is  a  long  story  about  one  you  know  nothing 
about  except  what  little  I  have  told  you.  But  the 
Man  is  a  very  remarkable  Man  indeed,  and  you  may 
be  interested — you  must  be — in  him. 

1  Ho  !  parlons  d'autres  choses,  ma  Fille,'  as  my  dear 
Sevigne  says.  She  now  occupies  Montaigne's  place 
in  my  room :  well — worthily  :  she  herself  a  Lover  of 
Montaigne,  and  with  a  spice  of  his  free  thought  and 
speech  in  her.  I  am  sometimes  vext  I  never  made 
her  acquaintance  till  last  year :  but  perhaps  it  was  as 
well  to  have  such  an  acquaintance  reserved  for  one's 
latter  years.  The  fine  Creature  !  much  more  alive  to 
me  than  most  Friends — I  should  like  to  see  her 
'  Rochers '  in  Brittany.1 

1  On  July  22nd,  1880,  he  wrote  to  me  : — "  I  am  still  reading  her  ! 
And  could  make  a  pretty  Introduction  to  her  ;  but  Press-work  is 
hard  to  me  now,  and  nobodv  would  care  for  what  I  should  do,  when 


1S76]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  107 

'  Parlons  d'autres  choses' — your  Mother's  Miniature. 
You  seemed  at  first  to  think  it  was  taken  from  the 
Engraving :  but  the  reverse  was  always  clear  to  me. 
The  whole  figure,  down  to  the  Feet,  is  wanted  to 
account  for  the  position  of  the  Legs ;  and  the  superior 
delicacy  of  Feature  would  not  be  gained  from  the 
Engraving,  but  the  contrary.  The  Stars  were  stuck 
in  to  make  an  'Urania'  of  it  perhaps.  I  do  not 
assert  that  your  Miniature  is  the  original :  but  that 
such  a  Miniature  is.  I  did  not  expect  that  Black  next 
the  Picture  would  do  :  had  you  '  tried  on  the  Bonnet ' 
first,  as  I  advised  ?  I  now  wish  I  had  sent  the  Picture 
over  in  its  original  Frame,  which  I  had  doctored  quite 
well  with  a  strip  of  Black  Paper  pasted  over  the  Gold. 
It  might  really  have  gone  through  Quaritch's  Agency  : 
but  I  got  into  my  head  that  the  Post  was  safer.  (How 
badly  I  am  writing !)  I  had  a  little  common  Engraving 
of  the  Cottage  bonnet  Portrait  :  so  like  Henry.  If  I 
did  not  send  it  to  you,  I  know  not  what  is  become 
of  it. 

Along  with  your  Letter  came  one  from  Donne 
telling  me  of  your  Niece's  Death.1  He  said  he  had 
written   to  tell   you.     In    reply,    I    gave   him    your 

done.  Mrs.  Edwards  has  found  me  a  good  Photo  of  '  nos  pauvres 
Rochers,'  a  straggling  old  Chateau,  with  (I  suppose)  the  Chapel 
which  her  old  '  Bien  Bon  '  Uncle  built  in  1671 — while  she  was  talk- 
ing to  her  Gardener  Pilois  and  reading  Montaigne,  Moliere,  Pascal, or 
Cleopatra,  among  the  trees  she  had  planted.  Bless  her  !  I  should 
like  to  have  made  Lamb  like  her,  in  spite  of  his  anti-gallican 
Obstinacy." 

1  Mrs.  Charles  Donne,  daughter  of  John  Mitchell  Kemble,  died 
April  15th,  1876. 


10S  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

message ;  that  he  must  '  hold  on  '  till  next  year  when 
peradventure  you  may  see  England  again,  and  hope 
to  see  him  too. 

Sooner  or  later  you  will  see  an  Account  of  '  Mary 
Tudor'  at  the  Lyceum.1  It  is  just  what  I  expected  : 
a  '  succes  d'estime,'  and  not  a  very  enthusiastic  one. 
Surely,  no  one  could  have  expected  more.  And  now 
comes  out  a  new  Italian  Hamlet — Rossi — whose  first 
appearance  is  recorded  in  the  enclosed  scrap  of 
Standard.  And  (to  finish  Theatrical  or  Dramatic 
Business)  Quaritch  has  begun  to  print  Agamemnon — 
so  leisurely  that  I  fancy  he  wishes  to  wait  till  the  old 
Persian  is  exhausted,  and  so  join  the  two.  I  certainly 
am  in  no  hurry ;  for  I  fully  believe  we  shall  only  get 
abused  for  the  Greek  in  proportion  as  we  were  praised 
for  the  Persian — in  England,  I  mean  :  for  you  have 
made  America  more  favourable. 

'  Parlons  d'autres  choses.'  '  Eh  ?  mais  de  quoi 
parler,'  etc.  Well :  a  Blackbird  is  singing  in  the  little 
Garden  outside  my  Lodging  Window,  which  is  frankly 
opened  to  what  Sun  there  is.  It  has  been  a  singular 
half  year;  only  yesterday  Thunder  in  rather  cold 
weather :  and  last  week  the  Road  and  Rail  in  Cam- 
bridge and  Huntingdon  was  blocked  up  with  Snow ; 
and  Thunder  then  also.  I  suppose  I  shall  get  home 
in  ten  days :  before  this  Letter  will  reach  you,  I  sup- 
pose :  so  your  next  may  be  addressed  to  Woodbridge. 
I  really  don't  know  if  these  long  Letters  are  more  of 
Trouble  or  Pleasure  to  you :  however,  there  is  an  end 

1  First  acted  April  18th,  1876. 


1876]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  109 

to  all :  and  that  End  is  that  I  am  yours  as  truly  as 
ever  I  was 

E.  F.G. 


XL. 

Woodbridge,  June  4,  [1876  ] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble. 

Here  I  am  back  into  the  Country,  as  I  may 
call  my  suburb  here  as  compared  to  Lowestoft  :  all  my 
house,  except  the  one  room — which  '  serves  me  for 
Parlour  and  Bedroom  and  all'1 — occupied  by  Nieces. 
Our  weather  is  temperate,  our  Trees  green,  Roses 
about  to  bloom,  Birds  about  to  leave  off  singing — all 
sufficiently  pleasant.  I  must  not  forget  a  Box  from 
Mudie  with  some  Memoirs  in  it — of  Godwin,  Haydon, 
etc.,  which  help  to  amuse  one.  And  I  am  just 
beginning  Don  Quixote  once  more  for  my  '  piece  de 
Resistance,'  not  being  so  familiar  with  the  First  Part 
as  the  Second.  Lamb  and  Coleridge  (I  think)  thought 
that  Second  Part  should  not  have  been  written ;  why 
then  did  I — not  for  contradiction's  sake,  I  am  sure — 
so  much  prefer  it  ?  Old  Hallam,  in  his  History  of 
Literature,  resolved  me,  I  believe,  by  saying  that 
Cervantes,  who  began  by  making  his  Hero  ludicrously 
crazy,  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  in  the  second  part 
tamed  and  tempered  him  down  to  the  grand  Gentle- 
man he  is  :  scarce  ever  originating  a  Delusion,  though 
acting  his  part  in  it  as  a  true  Knight  when  led  into 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  293. 


no  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

it  by  others.1  A  good  deal  however  might  well  be 
left  out.  If  you  have  Jarvis'  Translation  by,  or  near, 
you,  pray  read — oh,  read  all  of  the  second  part,  except 
the  stupid  stuff  of  the  old  Duenna  in  the  Duke's 
Palace. 

I  fear  I  get  more  and  more  interested  in  your 
'  Gossip,'  as  you  approach  the  Theatre.  I  suppose 
indeed  that  it  is  better  to  look  on  than  to  be  engaged 
in.  I  love  it,  and  reading  of  it,  now  as  much  as  ever 
I  cared  to  see  it :  and  that  was,  very  much  indeed. 
I  never  heard  till  from  your  last  Paper a  that  Henry 
was  ever  thought  of  for  Romeo  :  I  wonder  he  did  not 
tell  me  this  when  he  and  I  were  in  Paris  in  1830, 
and  used  to  go  and  see  'La  Muette  ! '  (I  can  hear 
them  calling  it  now :)  at  the  Grand  Opera.  I  see 
that  '  Queen  Mary'  has  some  while  since  been  deposed 
from  the  Lyceum ;  and  poor  Mr.  Irving  descended 
from  Shakespeare  to  his  old  Melodrama  again.  All 
this  is  still  interesting  to  me  down  here :  much  more 
than  to  you — over  there  ! — 

'Over  there'  you  are  in  the  thick  of  your  Phila- 
delphian  Exhibition,3  I  suppose  :  but  I  dare  say  you 
do  not  meddle  with  it  very  much,  and  will  probably 
be  glad  when  it  is  all  over.  I  wish  now  I  had  sent 
you  the  Miniature  in  its  Frame,  which  I  had  instructed 
to  become  it.  What  you  tell  us  your  Mother  said 
concerning  Dress,  I  certainly  always  felt :  only  secure 

1  See  'Letters,'  ii.  198. 

2  Atlantic  Monthly,  June  1876,  p.  719. 

3  Which  opened  May  10th,  1875. 


1876]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  in 

the  Beautiful,  and  the  Grand,  in  all  the  Arts,  whatever 
Chronology  may  say.  Rousseau  somewhere  says  that 
what  you  want  of  Decoration  in  the  Theatre  is,  what 
will  bewilder  the  Imagination — 'ebranler  l'lmagina- 
tion,'  I  think  : T  only  let  it  be  Beautiful ! 

June  5. 

I  kept  this  letter  open  in  case  I  should  see  Arthur 
Malkin,  who  was  coming  to  stay  at  a  Neighbour's 
house.  He  very  kindly  did  call  on  me :  he  and  his 
second  wife  (who,  my  Neighbour  says,  is  a  very 
proper  Wife),  but  I  was  abroad — though  no  further 
off  than  my  own  little  Estate ;  and  he  knows  I  do 
not  visit  elsewhere.  But  I  do  not  the  less  thank  him, 
and  am  always  yours 

E.  F.G. 

Pollock  writes  me  he  had  just  visited  Carlyle — 
quite  well  for  his  Age  :  and  vehement  against  Darwin, 
and  the  Turk. 


XLI. 

'YVoodbridge  :  July  31/76. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

A  better  pen  than  usual  tempts  me  to  write 
the  little  I  have  to  tell  you ;  so  that  [at]  any  rate  your 

1  In  one  of  his  Common  Place  Books  FitzGerald  has  entered  from 
the  Monthly  Mirror  for  1807  the  following  passage  of  Rousseau  on 
Stage  Scenery  : — '  lis  font,  pour  £pouventer,  un  Fracas  de  Decora- 
tions sans  Effet.  Sur  la  scene  meme  il  ne  faut  pas  tout  dire  a  la 
Vue  :  mais  6branler  1' Imagination.' 


ii2  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1876 

Eyes  shall  not  be  afflicted  as  sometimes  I  doubt  they 
are  by  my  MS. 

Which  MS.  puts  me  at  once  in  mind  of  Print :  and 
to  tell  you  that  I  shall  send  you  Quaritch's  Reprint 
of  Agamemnon :  which  is  just  done  after  many 
blunders.  The  revises  were  not  sent  me,  as  I  de- 
sired :  so  several  things  are  left  as  I  meant  not :  but 
'  enfin '  here  it  is  at  last  so  fine  that  I  am  ashamed 
of  it.  For,  whatever  the  merit  of  it  may  be,  it  can't 
come  near  all  this  fine  Paper,  Margin,  etc.,  which 
Quaritch  will  have  as  counting  on  only  a  few  buyers, 
who  will  buy — in  America  almost  wholly,  I  think. 
And,  as  this  is  wholly  due  to  you,  I  send  you  the 
Reprint,  however  little  different  to  what  you  had 
before. 

1  Tragedy  wonders  at  being  so  fine,'  which  leads 
me  to  that  which  ought  more  properly  to  have  led 
to  it :  your  last  two  Papers  of  '  Gossip,'  which  are 
capital,  both  for  the  Story  told,  and  the  remarks  that 
arise  from  it.  To-morrow,  or  next  day,  I  shall  have  a 
new  Number  j  and  I  really  do  count  rather  childishly 
on  their  arrival.  Spedding  also  is  going  over  some 
of  his  old  Bacon  ground  in  the  Contemporary,1  and 
his  writing  is  always  delightful  to  me  though  I  cannot 
agree  with  him  at  last.  I  am  told  he  is  in  full 
Vigour :  as  indeed  I  might  guess  from  his  writing. 
I  heard  from  Donne  some  three  weeks  ago :  pro- 
posing a  Summer  Holyday  at  Whitby,  in  Yorkshire  : 
Valentia,  I  think,  not  very  well  again  :  Blanche  then 

1  For  April  and  May,  1876  :  '  The  Latest  Theory  about  Bacon.' 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  113 

with  her  Brother  Charles.  They  all  speak  very  highly 
of  Mrs.  Santley's  kindness  and  care.  Mowbray  talks 
of  coming  down  this  way  toward  the  end  of  August : 
but  had  not,  when  he  last  wrote,  fixed  on  his  Holy  day 
place. 

Beside  my  two  yearly  elder  Nieces,  I  have  now 
a  younger  who  has  spent  the  last  five  Winters  in 
Florence  with  your  once  rather  intimate  (I  think) 
Jane  FitzGerald  my  Sister.  She  married,  (you  may 
know)  a  Clergyman  considerably  older  than  herself. 
I  wrote  to  Annie  Thackeray  lately,  and  had  an 
answer  (from  the  Lakes)  to  say  she  was  pretty  well — 
as  also  Mr.  Stephen. 

And  I  am  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

P.S.  On  second  thoughts  I  venture  to  send  you 
A.  T.'s  letter,  which  may  interest  you  and  cannot 
shame  her.     I  do  not  want  it  again. 

XLIL 

WOODBRIDGE  :   Septr.   21/76. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Have  your  American  Woods  begun  to  hang 
out  their  Purple  and  Gold  yet  ?  on  this  Day  of 
Equinox.  Some  of  ours  begin  to  look  rusty,  after 
the  Summer  Drought;  but  have  not  turned  Yellow 
yet.  I  was  talking  of  this  to  a  Heroine  of  mine  who 
lives  near  here,  but  visits  the  Highlands  of  Scotland, 
which  she  loves  better  than  Suffolk — and  she  said  of 

8 


ii4  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

those  Highland  Trees — '  O,  they  give  themselves  no 
dying  Airs,  but  turn  Orange  in  a  Day,  and  are  swept 
off  in  a  Whirlwind,  and  Winter  is  come.' 

Now  too  one's  Garden  begins  to  be  haunted  by 
that  Spirit  which  Tennyson  says  is  heard  talking  to 
himself  among  the  flower-borders.  Do  you  remember 
him?1 

And  now — Who  should  send  in  his  card  to  me 
last  week — but  the  old  Poet  himself— he  and  his 
elder  Son  Hallam  passing  through  Woodbridge  from 
a  Tour  in  Norfolk.2  '  Dear  old  Fitz,'  ran  the  Card 
in  pencil,  '  We  are  passing  thro'.' 3  I  had  not  seen 
him  for  twenty  years — he  looked  much  the  same, 
except  for  his  fallen  Locks ;  and  what  really  surprised 
me  was,  that  we  fell  at  once  into  the  old  Humour, 
as  if  we  had  only  been  parted  twenty  Days  instead  of 
so  many  Years.  I  suppose  this  is  a  Sign  of  Age — 
not  altogether  desirable.  But  so  it  was.  He  stayed 
two  Days,  and  we  went  over  the  same  old  grounds 
of  Debate,  told  some  of  the  old  Stories,  and  all  was 
well.  I  suppose  I  may  never  see  him  again  :  and 
so  I  suppose  we  both  thought  as  the  Rail  carried 

1  See  letter  of  October  4th,  1875. 

2  See  '  Letters, '  ii.  202-205. 

3  This  card  is  now  in  my  possession,  '  Mr.  Alfred  Tennyson. 
Farringford.'  On  it  is  written  in  pencil,  "Dear  old  Fitz — I  am 
passing  thro'  and  will  call  again.  [The  last  three  words  are  crossed 
out  and  'am  here'  is  written  over  them].  A.T."  FitzGerald 
enclosed  it  to  Thompson  (Master  of  Trinity)  and  wrote  on  the  back, 
'  P.S.  Since  writing,  this  card  was  sent  in  :  the  Writer  followed 
with  his  Son  :  and  here  we  all  are  as  if  twenty  years  had  not  passed 
since  we  met.' 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  115 

him  off:  and  each  returned  to  his  ways  as  if  scarcely 
diverted  from  them.  Age  again  ! — I  liked  Hallam 
much;  unaffected,  unpretending — no  Slang — none  of 
Young  England's  nonchalance  —  speaking  of  his 
Father  as  'Papa'  and  tending  him  with  great  Care, 
Love,  and  Discretion.  Mrs.  A.  T.  is  much  out  of 
health,  and  scarce  leaves  Home,  I  think.1 

I  have  lately  finished  Don  Quixote  again,  and 
I  think  have  inflamed  A.  T.  to  read  him  too — I  mean 
in  his  native  Language.  For  this  must  be,  good  as 
Jams'  Translation  is,  and  the  matter  of  the  Book  so 
good  that  one  would  think  it  would  lose  less  than 
any  Book  by  Translation.  But  somehow  that  is  not 
so.  I  was  astonished  lately  to  see  how  Shakespeare's 
Henry  IV.  came  out  in  young  V.  Hugo's  Prose 
Translation 2  :    Hotspur,  Falstaff  and   all.     It  really 

1  About  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  me  : — "Tennyson  came  here 
suddenly  ten  days  ago — with  his  Son  Hallam,  whom  I  liked  much. 
It  was  a  Relief  to  find  a  Young  Gentleman  not  calling  his  Father 
'  The  Governor  '  but  even — '  Papa,'  and  tending  him  so  carefully 
in  all  ways.  And  nothing  of  'awfully  jolly,'  etc.  I  put  them  up 
at  the  Inn — Bull — as  my  own  House  was  in  a  sort  of  Interregnum 
of  Painting,  within  and  without  ;  and  I  knew  they  would  be  well 
provided  at  '  John  Grout's  ' — as  they  were.  Tennyson  said  he  had 
not  found  such  Dinners  at  Grand  Hotels,  etc.  And  John  (though  a 
Friend  of  Princes  of  all  Nations — Russian,  French,  Italian,  etc. — 
who  come  to  buy  Horse  flesh)  was  gratified  at  the  Praise  :  though 
he  said  to  me  '  Pray,  Sir,  what  is  the  name  of  the  Gentleman  ? '  " 

2  On  September  nth,  1877,  he  wrote  to  me  :  '  You  ought  to  have 
Hugo's  French  Shakespeare  :  it  is  not  wonderful  to  see  how  well  a 
German  Translation  thrives  : — but  French  Prose — no  doubt  better 
than  French  Verse.  When  I  was  looking  over  King  John  the  other 
day  I  knew  that  Napoleon  would  have  owned  it  as  the  thing  he 
craved  for  in  the  Theatre  :  as  also  the  other  Historical  Plays  : — not 
Love  of  which  one  is  sick  :  but  the  Business  of  Men.  He  said  this 
at  St.  Helena,  or  elsewhere. ' 


n6  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

seemed  to  show  me  more  than  I  had  yet  seen  in  the 
original. 

Ever  yours, 

E.  F.G. 


XLIII. 

Lowestoft  :  October  24/76. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Little — Nothing — as  I  have  to  write,  I  am 
nevertheless  beginning  to  write  to  you,  from  this  old 
Lodging  of  mine,  from  which  I  think  our  Correspond- 
ence chiefly  began — ten  years  ago.  I  am  in  the 
same  Room  :  the  same  dull  Sea  moaning  before  me : 
the  same  Wind  screaming  through  the  Windows :  so 
I  take  up  the  same  old  Story.  My  Lugger  was  then 
about  building : l  she  has  passed  into  other  hands 
now :  I  see  her  from  time  to  time  bouncing  into 
Harbour,  with  her  *  244 '  on  her  Bows.  Her  Captain 
and  I  have  parted  :  I  thought  he  did  very  wrongly — 
Drink,  among  other  things  :  but  he  did  not  think  he 
did  wrong :  a  different  Morality  from  ours — that,  in- 
deed, of  Carlyle's  ancient  Sea  Kings.  I  saw  him  a 
few  days  ago  in  his  house,  with  Wife  and  Children ; 
looking,  as  always,  too  big  for  his  house  :  but  always 
grand,  polite,  and  unlike  anybody  else.  I  was  noticing 
the  many  Flies  in  the  room — '  Poor  things,'  he  said, 
'  it  is  the  warmth  of  our  Stove  makes  them  alive.' 
When  Tennyson  was  with  me,  whose  Portrait  hangs 

1  It  was  in  1867.     See  '  Letters,'  ii.  90,  94. 


iS/6]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  117 

in  my  house  in  company  with  those  of  Thackeray 
and  this  Man  (the  three  greatest  men  I  have  known). 
I  thought  that  both  Tennyson  and  Thackeray  were 
inferior  to  him  in  respect  of  Thinking  of  Themselves. 
When  Tennyson  was  telling  me  of  how  The  Quarterly 
abused  him  (humorously  too),  and  desirous  of  know- 
ing why  one  did  not  care  for  his  later  works,  etc., 
I  thought  that  if  he  had  lived  an  active  Life,  as  ScotT 
and  Shakespeare ;  or  even  ridden,  shot,  drunk,  and 
played  the  Devil,  as  Byron,  he  would  have  done 
much  more,  and  talked  about  it  much  less.  '  You 
know,'  said  Scott  to  Lockhart,  '  that  I  don't  care  a 
Curse  about  what  I  write,' *  and  one  sees  he  did  not. 
I  don't  believe  it  was  far  otherwise  with  Shakespeare. 
Even  old  Wordsworth,  wrapt  up  in  his  Mountain 
mists,  and  proud  as  he  was,  was  above  all  this  vain 
Disquietude  :  proud,  not  vain,  was  he :  and  that  a 
Great  Man  (as  Dante)  has  some  right  to  be — but  not 
to  care  what  the  Coteries  say.     What  a  Rigmarole  ! 

Donne  scarce  ever  writes  to  me  (Twalmley  the 
Great),  and  if  he  do  not  write  to  you,  depend  upon 
it  he  thinks  he  has  nothing  worth  sending  over  the 
Atlantic.  I  heard  from  Mowbray  quite  lately  that 
his  Father  was  very  well. 

Yes  :  you  told  me  in  a  previous  Letter  that  you 
were  coming  to  England  after  Christmas.  I  shall 
not  be  up  to  going  to  London  to  see  you,  with  all 
your  Company  about  you ;  perhaps  (don't  think  me 
very  impudent !)  you  may  come  down,  if  we  live  till 

1  Life,  vi.  215.     Letter  to  Lockhart,  January  15th,  1826. 


nS  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1876 

Summer,  to  my  Woodbridge  Chateau,  and  there  talk 
over  some  old  things. 

I  make  a  kind  of  Summer  in  my  Room  here  with 
Boccaccio.  What  a  Mercy  that  one  can  return  with 
a  Relish  to  these  Books !  As  Don  Quixote  can  only 
be  read  in  his  Spanish,  so  I  do  fancy  Boccaccio  only 
in  his  Italian  :  and  yet  one  is  used  to  fancy  that 
Poetry  is  the  mainly  untranslateable  thing.  How 
prettily  innocent  are  the  Ladies,  who,  after  telling 
very  loose  Stories,  finish  with  'E  cosi  Iddio  faccia 
[noi]  godere  del  nostro  Amore,  etc.,'  sometimes, 
Dome?ieddiO)  more  affectionately.1 

Anyhow,  these  Ladies  are  better  than  the  accursed 
Eastern  Question ; 2  of  which  I  have  determined  to 
read,  and,  if  possible,  hear,  no  more  till  the  one 
question  be  settled  of  Peace  or  War.  If  war,  I  am 
told  I  may  lose  some  ^"5000  in  Russian  Bankruptcy : 
but  I  can  truly  say  I  would  give  that,  and  more,  to 
ensure  Peace  and  Good  Will  among  Men  at  this 
time.  Oh,  the  Apes  we  are  !  I  must  retire  to  my 
Montaigne — whom,  by  the  way,  I  remember  reading 
here,  when  the  Lugger  was  building  !  Oh,  the  Apes, 
etc.     But  there  was  A  Man  in  all  that  Business  still, 

1  These  expressions  must  not  be  looked  for  in  the  Decameron,  as 
'  emendato  secondo  l'ordine  del  Sacro  Concilio  di  Trento.' 

2  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  203.  In  a  letter  to  me  dated  November  4th, 
1876,  he  says  : — 

"I  have  taken  refuge  from  the  Eastern  Question  in  Boccaccio, 
just  as  the  '  piacevoli  Donne '  who  tell  the  Stories  escaped  from  the 
Plague.  I  suppose  one  must  read  this  in  Italian  as  my  dear  Don  in 
Spanish  :  the  Language  of  each  fitting  the  Subject  '  like  a  Glove.' 
But  there  is  nothing  to  come  up  to  the  Don  and  his  Man." 


1876]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  119 

who  is  so  now,  somewhat  tarnished. — And  I  am  yours 
as  then  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 

XLIV. 

Lowestoft  :  December  12/76. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

If  you  hold  to  your  Intention  of  coming  to 
Europe  in  January,  this  will  be  my  last  Letter  over 
the  Atlantic — till  further  Notice  !  I  dare  say  you  will 
send  me  a  last  Rejoinder  under  the  same  conditions. 
I  write,  you  see,  from  the  Date  of  my  last  letter  : 
but  have  been  at  home  in  the  meanwhile.  And  am 
going  home  to-morrow — to  arrange  about  Christmas 
Turkeys  (God  send  we  haven't  all  our  fill  of  that,  this 
Year  !)  and  other  such  little  matters  pertaining  to  the 
Season — which,  to  myself,  is  always  a  very  dull  one. 
Why  it  happens  that  I  so  often  write  to  you  from 
here,  I  scarce  know;  only  that  one  comes  with  few 
Books,  perhaps,  and  the  Sea  somehow  talks  to  one 
of  old  Things.  I  have  ever  my  Edition  of  Crabbe's 
Tales  of  the  Hall  with  me.     How  pretty  is  this — 

'  In  a  small  Cottage  on  the  rising  Ground 
West  of  the  Waves,  and  just  beyond  their  Sound.'  * 

Which  reminds  me  also  that  one  of  the  Books  I  have 
here  is  Leslie  Stephen's  '  Hours  in  a  Library,'  really 
delightful  reading,  and,  I  think,  really  settling  some 
Questions  of  Criticism,  as  one  wants  to  be  finally 

1  Book  XVIII. ,  vol.  vii.  p.  188. 


120  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1876 

done  in  all  Cases,  so  as  to  have  no  more  about  and 
about  it.  I  think  I  could  have  suggested  a  little 
Alteration  in  the  matter  of  this  Crabbe,  whom  I  pro- 
bably am  better  up  in  than  L.  S.,  though  I  certainly 
could  not  write  about  it  as  he  does.  Also,  one  word 
about  Clarissa.  Almost  all  the  rest  of  the  two 
Volumes  I  accept  as  a  Disciple.1 

Another  Book  of  the  kind — Lowell's  'Among  my 
Books,'  is  excellent  also :  perhaps  with  more  Genius 
than  Stephen  :  but  on  the  other  hand  not  so  temperate, 
judicious,  or  scholarly  in  taste.  It  was  Professor 
Norton  who  sent  me  Lowell's  Second  Series ;  and, 
if  you  should — (as  you  inevitably  will,  though  in 
danger  of  losing  the  Ship)  answer  this  Letter,  pray 
tell  me  if  you  know  how  Professor  Norton  is — in 
health,  I  mean.  You  told  me  he  was  very  delicate  : 
and  I  am  tempted  to  think  he  may  be  less  well  than 
usual,  as  he  has  not  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  a 
Volume 2  I  sent  him  with  some  of  Wordsworth's 
Letters  in  it,  which  he  had  wished  to  see.  The 
Volume  did  not  need  Acknowledgment  absolutely  : 
but  probably  would  not  have  been  received  with- 
out by  so  amiable  and  polite  a  Man,  if  he  [were]  not 
out  of  sorts.  I  should  really  be  glad  to  hear  that  he 
has  only  forgotten,  or  neglected,  to  write. 

Mr.  Lowell's  Ode3  in  your  last  Magazine  seemed 
to  me  full  of  fine  Thought  :  but  it  wanted  Wings.     I 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  208. 

2  Gillies'  Memoirs  of  a  Literary  Veteran.  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  197, 
199. 

*  An  Ode  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  1876. 


i876] 


TO    FANNY    KEMBLE 


121 


mean  it  kept  too  much  to  one  Level,  though  a  high 
Level,  for  Lyric  Poetry,  as  Ode  is  supposed  to  be  : 
both  in  respect  to  Thought,  and  Metre.  Even 
Wordsworth  (least  musical  of  men)  changed  his 
Flight  to  better  purpose  in  his  Ode  to  Immortality. 
Perhaps,  however,  Mr.  Lowell's  subject  did  not  require, 
or  admit,  such  Alternations. 

Your  last  Gossip  brought  me  back  to  London — 
but  what  Street  I  cannot  make  sure  of — but  one 
Room  in  whatever  Street  it  were,  where  I  remember 
your  Mr.  Wade,  who  took  his  Defeat  at  the  Theatre 
so  bravely.1  And  your  John,  in  Spain  with  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Dublin  :  and  coining  home  full  of  Torrijos  : 
and  singing  to  me  and  Thackeray  one  day  in  Russell 
Street  :  2 


con  -  spi  -  ro 


P 


-J  I 


m 


*= 


1 — w  m 

H    r 


=t= 


lit 


so  contra  el    pueb- lo      y        su 


li  -  ber   -   tad 


&c. 


All  which  comes  to  me  west  of  the  waves  and  just 
within  the  sound  :  and  is  to  travel  so  much  farther 

1  Mr.  Wade,  author  of  The  Jew  of  Ar agon,  which  failed.  Mrs. 
Kemble  says  {Atlantic  Monthly,  December,  1876,  p.  707)  : — 

' '  I  was  perfectly  miserable  when  the  curtain  fell,  and  the  poor 
young  author,  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  came  forward  to  meet  my  father 
at  the  side  scene,  and  bravely  holding  out  his  hand  to  him  said, 
'  Never  mind,  Mr.  Kemble  ;  I'll  do  better  another  time.'  " 

2  Francisco  Javier  Elio,  a  Spanish  General,  was  executed  in  1822 
for  his  severities  against  the  liberals  during  the  reactionary  period 
1814-1820. 


LI 


B*A, 


V~     OF  THE  "^ 

UNIVERSITY 


122  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1877 

Westward  over  an  Expanse  of  Rollers  such  as  we  see 
not  in  this  Herring-pond.     Still,  it  is— The  Sea. 

Now  then  Farewell,  dear  Mrs.  Kemble.  You  will 
let  me  know  when  you  get  to  Dublin  ?  I  will  add 
that,  after  very  many  weeks,  I  did  hear  from  Donne, 
who  told  me  of  you,  and  that  he  himself  had  been 
out  to  dine  :  and  was  none  the  worse. 

And  I  still  remain,  you  see,  your  long-winded 
Correspondent 

E.  F.G. 


XLV. 

12  Marine  Terrace,  Lowestoft, 

February  19/77. 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Donne  has  sent  me  the  Address  on  the  cover 
of  this  Letter.  I  know  you  will  write  directly  you 
hear  from  me ;  that  is  '  de  rigueur '  with  you ;  and, 
at  any  rate,  you  have  your  Voyage  home  to  England 
to  tell  me  of :  and  how  you  find  yourself  and  all  in 
the  Old  Country.  I  suppose  you  include  my  Old 
Ireland  in  it.  Donne  wrote  that  you  were  to  be 
there  till  this  Month's  end  ;  that  is  drawing  near ; 
and,  if  that  you  do  not  protract  your  Visit,  you  will 
[be]  very  soon  within  sight  of  dear  Donne  himself, 
who,  I  hear  from  Mowbray,  is  very  well. 

Your  last  Gossip  was  very  interesting   to   me.     I 
see  in  it  (but  not  in  the  most  interesting  part) x  that 

1  Atlantic  Monthly,  February,  1877,  p.  222. 


1 877]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  123 

you  write  of  a  'J.  F.,'  who  tells  you  of  a  Sister  of 
hers  having  a  fourth  Child,  etc.  I  fancy  this  must 
be  a  Jane  FitzGerald  telling  you  of  her  Sister  Kerrich, 
who  would  have  numbered  about  so  many  Children 
about  that  time — 1831.  Was  it  that  Jane?  I  think 
you  and  she  were  rather  together  just  then.  After 
which  she  married  herself  to  a  Mr.  Wilkinson — made 
him  very  Evangelical — and  tiresome — and  so  they  fed 
their  Flock  in  a  Suffolk  village.1  And  about  fourteen 
or  fifteen  years  ago  he  died  :  and  she  went  off  to  live 
in  Florence — rather  a  change  from  the  Suffolk  Village 
— and  there,  I  suppose,  she  will  die  when  her  Time 
comes. 

Now  you  have  read  Harold,  I  suppose ;  and  you 
shall  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it.  Pollock  and 
Miladi  think  it  has  plenty  of  Action  and  Life  :  one  of 
which  Qualities  I  rather  missed  in  it. 

Mr.  Lowell  sent  me  his  Three  Odes  about  Liberty, 
Washington,  etc.  They  seemed  to  me  full  of  fine 
Thought,  and  in  a  lofty  Strain  :  but  wanting  Variety 

1  Holbrook,  near  Ipswich.  That  she  had  also  some  of  the  family 
humour  is  evident  from  what  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Crabbe  of  her 
brother's  early  life.  *  As  regards  spiritual  advantages  out  of  the 
house  he  had  none  ;  for  our  Pastor  was  one  of  the  old  sort,  with  a 
jolly  red  nose  caused  by  good  cheer.  He  used  to  lay  his  Hat  and 
Whip  on  the  Communion  Table  and  gabble  over  the  service, 
running  down  the  Pulpit  Stairs  not  to  lose  the  opportunity  of  being 
invited  to  a  good  dinner  at  the  Hall.'  It  was  with  reference  to  his 
sister's  husband  that  FitzGerald  in  conversation  with  Tennyson  used 
the  expression  'A  Mr.  Wilkinson,  a  clergyman.'  'Why,  Fitz,' 
said  Tennyson,  '  that's  a  verse,  and  a  very  bad  one  too.'  And  they 
would  afterwards  humorously  contend  for  the  authorship  of  the 
worst  line  in  the  English  language. 


124  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1877 

both  of  Mood  and  Diction  for  Odes — which  are 
supposed  to  mean  things  to  be  chanted.  So  I 
ventured  to  hint  to  him — Is  he  an  angry  man?  But 
he  wouldn't  care,  knowing  of  me  only  through 
amiable  Mr.  Norton,  who  knows  me  through  you. 
I  think  he  must  be  a  very  amiable,  modest,  man. 
And  I  am  still  yours  always 

E.  F.G. 


XLVI. 

12  Marine  Terrace,  Lowestoft, 

March  15,  [1877.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

By  this  time  you  are,  I  suppose,  at  the 
Address  you  gave  me,  and  which  will  now  cover  this 
Letter.  You  have  seen  Donne,  and  many  Friends, 
perhaps — and  perhaps  you  have  not  yet  got  to  London 
at  all.  But  you  will  in  time.  When  you  do,  you  will, 
I  think,  have  your  time  more  taken  up  than  in 
America — with  so  many  old  Friends  about  you  :  so 
that  I  wish  more  and  more  you  would  not  feel  bound 
to  answer  my  Letters,  one  by  one :  but  I  suppose 
you  will. 

What  I  liked  so  much  in  your  February  Atlantic ! 
was  all  about  Goethe  and  Portia  :  I  think,  Jine  writing, 
in  the  plain  sense  of  the  word,  and  partly  so  because 
not  '  fine '  in  the  other  Sense.     You  can  indeed  spin 


1  Atlantic  Monthly,  February,  1877,  pp.  210,  211,  and  pp.  220, 
221. 


1877]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  125 

out  a  long  Sentence  of  complicated  Thought  very 
easily,  and  very  clearly ;  a  rare  thing.  As  to  Goethe, 
I  made  another  Trial  at  Hayward's  Prose  Translation 
this  winter,  but  failed,  as  before,  to  get  on  with  it. 
I  suppose  there  is  a  Screw  loose  in  me  on  that  point, 
seeing  what  all  thinking  People  think  of  it.  I  am 
sure  I  have  honestly  tried.  As  to  Portia,  I  still 
think  she  ought  not  to  have  proved  her  '  Superiority ' 
by  withholding  that  simple  Secret  on  which  her 
Husband's  Peace  and  his  Friend's  Life  depended. 
Your  final  phrase  about  her  '  sinking  into  perfection ' 
is  capital.     Epigram — without  Effort. 

You  wrote  me  that  Portia  was  your  beau-ideal  of 
Womanhood l — Query,  of  Lady-hood.  For  she  had 
more  than  ^£500  a  year,  which  Becky  Sharp  thinks 
enough  to  be  very  virtuous  on,  and  had  not  been 
tried.  Would  she  have  done  Jeanie  Deans'  work? 
She  might,  I  believe  :  but  was  not  tried. 

I   doubt   all   this  will  be  rather  a  Bore  to  you  : 

coming  back  to  England  to  find  all  the  old  topics  of 

Shakespeare,  etc.,  much  as  you  left  them.     You  will 

hear  wonderful  things   about   Browning   and   Co. — 

Wagner — and   H.   Irving.      In  a  late   Temple  Bar 

magazine 2  Lady  Pollock  says  that  her  Idol  Irving's 

Reading  of  Hood's  Eugene  Aram  is  such   that  any 

one  among  his  Audience  who   had  a   guilty  secret 

in  his  Bosom  l  must  either  tell  it,  or  die.'     These  are 

her  words. 

1  See  note  to  Letter  of  Dec.  29th,  1875. 

•  For  November,   1875,  in  an  article  called  '  The  Judgment  of 
Paris,"  p.  400. 


126  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1877 

You  see  I  still  linger  in  this  ugly  place  :  having  a 
very  dear  little  Niece  a  little  way  off:  a  complete 
little  '  Pocket-Muse '  I  call  her.  One  of  the  first 
Things  she  remembers  is — you,  in  white  Satin,  and 
very  handsome,  she  says,  reading  Twelfth  Night  at 
this  very  place.     And  I  am 

Yours  ever 

E.  F.G. 

(I  am  now  going  to  make  out  a  Dictionary-list  of 
the  People  in  my  dear  Sevigne,  for  my  own  use.)  : 


XLVII. 

Little  Grange  :  Woodbridge. 

May  5/77. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  am  disappointed  at  not  finding  any  Gossip 
in  the  last  Atlantic ; 2  the  Editor  told  us  at  the  end 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  217.     This  is  in  my  possession. 

2  It  came  to  an  end  in  April,  1877.  In  a  letter  to  Miss  St.  Leger, 
December  31st,  1876  ('  Further  Records,'  ii.  33),  Mrs.  Kemble  says, 
■  You  ask  me  how  I  mean  to  carry  on  the  publication  of  my  articles 
in  the  Atlantic  Magazine  when  I  leave  America  ;  but  I  do  not 
intend  to  carry  them  on.  The  editor  proposed  to  me  to  do  so,  but 
I  thought  it  would  entail  so  much  trouble  and  uncertainty  in  the 
transmission  of  manuscript  and  proofs,  that  it  would  be  better  to 
break  off  when  I  came  to  Europe.  The  editor  will  have  manuscript 
enough  for  the  February,  March,  and  April  numbers  when  I  come 
away,  and  with  those  I  think  the  series  must  close.  As  there  is  no 
narrative  or  sequence  of  events  involved  in  the  publication,  it  can, 
of  course,  be  stopped  at  any  moment ;  a  story  without  an  end  can 
end  anywhere.' 


1877]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  127 

of  last  Year  that  it  was  to  be  carried  on  through  this  : 
perhaps  you  are  not  bound  down  to  every  month  : 
but  I  hope  the  links  are  not  to  discontinue  for  long. 

I  did  not  mean  in  my  last  letter  to  allude  again  to 
myself  and  Co.  in  recommending  some  omissions 
when  you  republish.1  That — viz.,  about  myself — I 
was  satisfied  you  would  cut  out,  as  we  had  agreed 
before.  (N.B.  No  occasion  to  omit  your  kindly 
Notices  about  my  Family — nor  my  own  Name  among 
them,  if  you  like  :  only  not  all  about  myself.)  What 
I  meant  in  my  last  Letter  was,  some  of  your  earlier 
Letters — or  parts  of  Letters — to  H. — as  some  from 
Canterbury,  I  think — I  fancy  some  part  of  your  early 
Life  might  be  condensed.  But  I  will  tell  you,  if  you 
will  allow  me,  when  the  time  comes  :  and  then  you 
can  but  keep  to  your  own  plan,  which  you  have  good 
reason  to  think  better  than  mine — though  I  am  very 
strong  in  Scissors  and  Paste :  my  '  Harp  and  Lute.' 
Crabbe  is  under  them  now — as  usual,  once  a  Year. 
If  one  lived  in  London,  or  in  any  busy  place,  all  this 
would  not  be  perhaps  :  but  it  hurts  nobody — unless 
you,  who  do  hear  too  much  about  it. 

Last  night  I  made  my  Reader  begin  Dickens' 
wonderful  '  Great  Expectations ' :  not  considered  one 
of  his  best,  you  know,  but  full  of  wonderful  things, 
and  even  with  a  Plot  which,  I  think,  only  needed  less 
intricacy  to  be  admirable.  I  had  only  just  read  the 
Book  myself :  but  I  wanted  to  see  what  my  Reader 
would  make  of  it :  and  he  was  so  interested  that  he 

1  See  letter  of  December  29th,  1875. 


128   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1877 

re-interested  me  too.     Here  is  another  piece  of  Wood- 
bridge  Life. 

Now,  if  when  London  is  hot  you  should  like  to  run 
down  to  this  Woodbridge,  here  will  be  my  house  at 
your  Service  after  July.  It  may  be  so  all  this  month  : 
but  a  Nephew,  Wife,  and  Babe  did  talk  of  a  Fort- 
night's Visit :  but  have  not  talked  of  it  since  I 
returned  a  fortnight  ago.  June  and  July  my  Invalid 
Niece  and  her  Sister  occupy  the  House — not  longer. 
Donne,  and  all .  who  know  me,  know  that  I  do  not 
like  anyone  to  come  out  of  their  way  to  visit  me  :  but, 
if  they  be  coming  this  way,  I  am  very  glad  to  do  my 
best  for  them.  And  if  any  of  them  likes  to  occupy 
my  house  at  any  time,  here  it  is  at  their  Service — at 
yours,  for  as  long  as  you  will,  except  the  times  I  have 
mentioned.  I  give  up  the  house  entirely  except  my 
one  room,  which  serves  for  Parlour  and  Bed  :  and 
which  I  really  prefer,  as  it  reminds  me  of  the  Cabin 
of  my  dear  little  Ship — mine  no  more. 

Here  is  a  long  Story  about  very  little.  Woodbridge 
again. 

A  Letter  from  Mowbray  Donne  told  me  that  you 
had  removed  to  some  house  in — Connaught  Place  ? l — 
but  he  did  not  name  the  number. 

Valentia's  wedding  comes  on  :  perhaps  you  will  be 
of  the  Party.2  I  think  it  would  be  one  more  of 
Sorrow  than  of  Gladness  to  me  :  but  perhaps  that 
may  be  the  case  with  most  Bridals. 

1  15,  Connaught  Square.    See  '  Further  Records,'  ii.  42,  etc. 

2  Valentia  Donne  married  the  Rev.  R.  F.  Smith,  minor  Canon  of 
Southwell,  May  24th,  1877. 


1877]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  129 

It  is  very  cold  here  :  ice  of  nights  :  but  my  Tulips 
and  Anemones  hold  up  still :  and  Nightingales  sing. 
Somehow,  I  don't  care  for  those  latter  at  Night. 
They  ought  to  be  in  Bed  like  the  rest  of  us.  This 
seems  talking  for  the  sake  of  being  singular :  but  J 
have  always  felt  it,  singular  or  not. 

And  I  am  yours  always 

E.  F.G. 


XLVIII. 

[June,  1877.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  only  write  now  on  the  express  condition 
(which  I  understand  you  to  accept)  that  you  will  not 
reply  till  you  are  in  Switzerland.  I  mean,  of  course, 
within  any  reasonable  time.  Your  last  Letter  is  not 
a  happy  one  *  :  but  the  record  of  your  first  Memoir 
cannot  fail  to  interest  and  touch  me. 

I  surmise — for  you  do  not  say  so — that  you  are 
alone  in  London  now :  then,  you  must  get  away  as 
soon  as  you  can ;  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear 
from  yourself  that  you  are  in  some  green  Swiss  Valley, 
with  a  blue  Lake  before  you,  and  snowy  mountain 
above. 

I  must  tell  you  that,  my  Nieces  being  here — good, 
pious,  and  tender,  they  are  too — (but  one  of  them  an 
Invalid,  and  the  other  devoted  to  attend  her)  they 
make  but  little  change  in  my  own  way  of  Life.  They 
live  by  themselves,  and  I  only  see  them  now  and  then 

9 


130  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1877 

in  the  Garden — sometimes  not  five  minutes  in  the 
Day.  But  then  I  am  so  long  used  to  Solitude.  And 
there  is  an  end  of  that  Chapter. 

I  have  your  Gossip  bound  up  :  the  binder  backed 
it  with  Black,  which  I  don't  like  (it  was  his  doing,  not 
mine),  but  you  say  that  your  own  only  Suit  is  Sables 
now.  I  am  going  to  lend  it  to  a  very  admirable  Lady 
who  is  going  to  our  ugly  Sea-side,  with  a  sick  Brother  : 
only  I  have  pasted  over  one  column — which,  I  leave 
you  to  guess  at. 

I  think  I  never  told  you — what  is  the  fact,  how- 
ever— that  I  had  wished  to  dedicate  Agamemnon  to 
you,  but  thought  I  could  not  do  so  without  my  own 
name  appended.  Whereas,  I  could,  very  simply,  as 
I  saw  afterwards  when  too  late.  If  ever  he  is  re- 
printed I  shall  (unless  you  forbid)  do  as  I  desired  to 
do  :  for,  if  for  no  other  reason,  he  would  probably 
never  have  been  published  but  for  you.  Perhaps  he 
had  better  [have]  remained  in  private  Life  so  far  as 
England  is  concerned.  And  so  much  for  that  grand 
Chapter. 

I  think  it  is  an  ill-omened  Year  :  beside  War  (which 
I  wortt  read  about)  so  much  Illness  and  Death — 
hereabout,  at  any  rate.  A  Nephew  of  mine — a 
capital  fellow — was  pitched  upon  his  head  from  a 
Gig  a  week  ago,  and  we  know  not  yet  how  far  that 
head  of  his  may  recover  itself.  But,  beside  one's  own 
immediate  Friends,  I  hear  of  Sickness  and  Death 
from  further  Quarters  ;  and  our  Church  Bell  has  been 
everlastingly  importunate  with   its  "  Toll-toll."     But 


i877]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  131 

Farewell  for  the  present :  pray  do  as  I  ask  you  about 
writing  :  and  believe  me  ever  yours, 

E.  F.G. 

*  You  were  thinking  of  something  else  when  you 
misdirected  your  letter,  which  sent  it  a  round  before 
reaching  Woodbridge. 


XLIX. 

Woodbridge,  June  23/77. 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  knew  the  best  thing  I  could  do  concerning 
the  Book  you  wanted  was  to  send  your  Enquiry  to  the 
Oracle  itself: — whose  Reply  I  herewith  enclose. 

Last  Evening  I  heard  read  Jeanie  Deans'  Audience 
with  Argyle,  and  then  with  the  Queen.  There  I  stop 
with  the  Book.  Oh,  how  refreshing  is  the  leisurely, 
easy,  movement  of  the  Story,  with  its  true,  and  well- 
harmonized  Variety  of  Scene  and  Character  !  There 
is  of  course  a  Bore — Saddletree — as  in  Shakespeare, 
I  presume  to  think — as  in  Cervantes — as  in  Life 
itself :  somewhat  too  much  of  him  in  Scott,  perhaps. 
But  when  the  fuliginous  and  Spasmodic  Carlyle 
and  Co.  talk  of  Scott's  delineating  his  Characters 
from  without  to  within  * — why,  he  seems  to  have  had 

1  '  We  might  say  in  a  short  word,  which  means  a  long  matter, 
that  your  Shakespeare  fashions  his  characters  from  the  heart  out- 
wards ;  your  Scott  fashions  them  from  the  skin  inwards,  never 
getting  near  the  heart  of  them.' — Carlyle,  'Miscellanies,'  vi.  69 
(ed.  1869),  '  Sir  Walter  Scott." 


132   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1878 

a  pretty  good  Staple  of  the  inner  Man  of  David,  and 
Jeanie  Deans,  on  beginning  his  Story ;  as  of  the 
Antiquary,  Dalgetty,  the  Ashtons,  and  a  lot  more. 
I  leave  all  but  the  Scotch  Novels.  Madge  has  a 
little — a  wee  bit — theatrical  about  her :  but  I  think 
her  to  be  paired  off  with  Ophelia,  and  worth  all  Miss 
Austen's  Drawing-room  Respectabilities  put  together. 
It  is  pretty  what  Barry  Cornwall  says  on  meeting 
Scott  among  other  Authors  at  Rogers ' :  '  I  do  not 
think  any  one  envied  him  any  more  than  one  envies 
Kings.'  !  You  have  done  him  honour  in  your  Gossip  : 
as  one  ought  to  do  in  these  latter  Days. 

So  this  will  be  my  last  letter  to  you  till  you  write 
me  from  Switzerland  :  where  I  wish  you  to  be  as  soon 
as  possible.     And  am  yours  always  and  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 

A  Letter  from  Donne  speaks  cheerfully.  And 
Charles  to  be  married  again  !    It  may  be  best  for  him. 


L. 

31,  Great  George  Street,  S.W. 
Feb.  20,  1878. 

Dear  Edward  FitzGerald, 

I  have  sent  your  book  ('  Mrs.  Kemble's 
Autobiography ')  as  far  as  Bealings  by  a  safe  convoy, 
and  my  cousin,  Elizabeth  Phillips,  who  is  staying 
there,  will  ultimately  convey  it  to  its  destination  at 
your  house. 

1   Procter,  'Autobiographical  Fragments,'  p.  154. 


1 878]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  133 

It  afforded  Charlotte  [wife]  and  myself  several 
evenings  of  very  agreeable  reading,  and  we  certainly 
were  impressed  most  favourably  with  new  views  as  to 
the  qualities  of  heart  and  head  of  the  writer.  Some 
observations  were  far  beyond  what  her  years  would 
have  led  one  to  expect.  I  think  some  letters  to  her 
friend  '  S.'  on  the  strange  fancy  which  hurried  off 
her  brother  from  taking  orders,  to  fighting  Spanish 
quarxgjs,  are  very  remarkable  for  their  good  sense,  as 
well  as  warm  feeling.  Her  energy  too  in  accepting 
her  profession  at  the  age  of  twenty  as  a  means  of 
assisting  her  father  to  overcome  his  difficulties  is 
indicative  of  the  best  form  of  genius — steady  determin- 
ation to  an  end. 

Curiously  enough,  whilst  reading  the  book,  we  met 
Mrs.  Gordon  (a  daughter  of  Mrs.  Sartoris)  and  her 
husband  at  Malkin's  at  dinner,  and  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  sitting  next  to  her.  The  durability  of  type  in  the 
Kemble  face  might  be  a  matter  for  observation  with 
physiologists,  and  from  the  little  I  saw  of  her  I  should 
think  the  lady  worthy  of  the  family. 

If  the  book  be  issued  in  a  reprint  a  few  omissions 
might  be  well.  I  fear  we  lost  however  by  some 
lacunae  which  you  had  caused  by  covering  up  a  page 
or  two. 

Charlotte  unites  with  me  in  kindest  regards  to 
yourself, 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

Hatherley. 

E.  FitzGerald,  Esq. 


134  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1878 

I  send  this  to  you,  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  not  because 
the  writer  is  a  Lord — Ex-Chancellor — but  a  very 
good,  amiable,  and  judicious  man.  I  should  have 
sent  you  any  other  such  testimony,  had  not  all  but 
this  been  oral,  only  this  one  took  away  the  Book,  and 
thus  returns  it.  I  had  forgot  to  ask  about  the  Book  ; 
oh,  make  Bentley  do  it ;  if  any  other  English  Publisher 
should  meditate  doing  so,  he  surely  will  apprise  you  ; 
and  you  can  have  some  Voice  in  it. 

Ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

No  need  to  return,  or  acknowledge,  the  Letter. 


LI. 

Little  Grange  :  Woodbridge. 

February  22,  [1878.] 

My  dear  Lady, 

I  am  calling  on  you  earlier  than  usual,  I 
think.  In  my  '  Academy ' 1  I  saw  mention  of  some 
Notes  on  Mrs.  Siddons  in  some  article  of  this  month's 
'  Fortnightly ' 2 — as  I  thought.  So  I  bought  the 
Number,  but  can  find  no  Siddons  there.  You  pro- 
bably know  about  it ;  and  will  tell  me  ? 

If  you  have  not  already  read — buy  Keats'  Love- 
Letters  to  Fanny  Brawne.  One  wishes  she  had 
another  name ;  and  had  left  some  other  Likeness  of 
herself  than   the   Silhouette  (cut  out  by  Scissors,  I 

1  February  9th,  1878. 

2  It  was  not  in  the  Fortnightly  but  in  the  Nineteenth  Century, 


187S]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  135 

fancy)  which  dashes  one's  notion  of  such  a  Poet's 
worship.  But  one  knows  what  misrepresentations 
such  Scissors  make.  I  had — perhaps  have — one  of 
Alfred  Tennyson,  done  by  an  Artist  on  a  Steamboat 
— some  thirty  years  ago  ;  which,  though  not  inaccurate 
of  outline,  gave  one  the  idea  of  a  respectable 
Apprentice.1  But  Keats'  Letters — It  happened  that, 
just  before  they  reached  me,  I  had  been  hammering 
out  some  admirable  Notes  on  Catullus 2 — another 
such  fiery  Soul  who  perished  about  thirty  years  of  age 
two  thousand  years  ago ;  and  I  scarce  felt  a  change 
from  one  to  other.3  From  Catullus'  better  parts,  I 
mean  ;  for  there  is  too  much  of  filthy  and  odious — 
both  of  Love  and  Hate.  Oh,  my  dear  Virgil  never 
fell  into  that :  he  was  fit  to  be  Dante's  companion 
beyond  even  Purgatory. 

I  have  just  had  a  nice  letter  from  Mr.  Norton  in 
America  :  an  amiable,  modest  man  surely  he  must  be. 
His  aged  Mother  has  been  ill :  fallen  indeed  into 
some  half-paralysis :  affecting  her  Speech  principally. 
He  says  nothing  of  Mr.  Lowell ;  to  whom  I  would 
write  if  I  did  not  suppose  he  was  very  busy  with  his 
Diplomacy,  and  his  Books,  in  Spain.  I  hope  he  will 
give  us  a  Cervantes,  in  addition  to  the  Studies  in  his 
'  Among  my  Books,'  which  seem  to  me,  on  the  whole, 

1  This  portrait  is  in  my  possession.  FitzGerald  fastened  it  in  a 
copy  of  the  'Poems  chiefly  Lyrical'  (1830)  which  he  gave  me 
bound  up  with  the  '  Poems'  of  1833.  He  wrote  underneath,  '  Done 
in  a  Steamboat  from  Gravesend  to  London,  Jan  :  1842.' 

2  Criticisms  and  Elucidations  of  Catullus  by  H.  A.  J.  Alunro. 

3  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  233,  235,  236,  238,  239. 


136  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1878 

the   most   conclusive    Criticisms   we    have   on    their 
several  subjects. 

Do  you  ever  see  Mrs.  Ritchie  ?  Fred.  Tennyson 
wrote  me  that  Alfred's  son  (Lionel,  the  younger,  I 
suppose)  was  to  be  married  in  Westminster  Abbey : 
which  Fred,  thinks  an  ambitious  flight  of  Mrs.  A.  T. 

I  may  as  well  stop  in  such  Gossip.  Snowdrops  and 
Crocuses  out :  I  have  not  many,  for  what  I  had  have 
been  buried  under  an  overcoat  of  Clay,  poor  little 
Souls.  Thrushes  tuning  up ;  and  I  hope  my  old 
Blackbirds  have  not  forsaken  me,  or  fallen  a  prey  to 
Cats. 

And  I  am  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LII. 

The  Old  (Curiosity)  Shop.     Woodbridge, 

April  16,  [1878]. 
[Where,  by  the  by,  I  heard  the  Nightingale  for  the 
first  time   yesterday   Morning.      That    is,   I  believe, 
almost  its  exact  date  of  return,  wind  and  weather 
permitting.     Which  being  premised — ] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  think  it  is  about  the  time  for  you  to  have 
a  letter  from  me ;  for  I  think  I  am  nearly  as  punctual 
as  the  Nightingale,  though  at  quicker  Intervals ;  and 
perhaps  there  may  be  other  points  of  Unlikeness. 
After  hearing  that  first  Nightingale  in  my  Garden,  I 


1878]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE 


7 


found  a  long,  kind,  and  pleasant,  Letter  from  Mr. 
Lowell  in  Madrid  :  the  first  of  him  too  that  I  have 
heard  since  he  flew  thither.  Just  before  he  wrote, 
he  says,  he  had  been  assigning  Damages  to  some 
American  who  complained  of  having  been  fed  too 
long  on  Turtle's  Eggs  1 : — and  all  that  sort  of  Business, 
says  the  Minister,  does  not  inspire  a  man  to  Letter- 
writing.  He  is  acclimatizing  himself  to  Cervantes, 
about  whom  he  must  write  one  of  his  fine,  and  (as  I 
think)  final  Essays  :  I  mean  such  as  (in  the  case  of 
others  he  has  done)  ought  to  leave  no  room  for  a 
reversal  of  Judgment.  Amid  the  multitude  of  Essays, 
Reviews,  etc.,  one  still  wants  that:  and  I  think 
Lowell  does  it  more  than  any  other  Englishman. 
He  says  he  meets  Valasquez  at  every  turn  of  the 
street ;  and  Murillo's  Santa  Anna  opens  his  door  for 
him.  Things  are  different  here  :  but  when  my  Oracle 
last  night  was  reading  to  me  of  Dandie  Dinmont's 
blessed  visit  to  Bertram  in  Portanferry  Gaol,  I  said — 
'  I  know  it's  Dandie,  and  I  shouldn't  be  at  all  surprized 
to  see  him  come  into  this  room.'  No — no  more  than 
— Madame  de  Sevigne  !  I  suppose  it  is  scarce  right 
to  live  so  among  Shadows;  but — after  near  seventy 
years  so  passed — '  Que  voulez-vous  ? ' 

Still,  if  any  Reality  would — of  its  own  Volition — 
draw  near  to  my  still  quite  substantial  Self;  I  say 
that  my  House  (if  the  Spring  do  not  prove  unkindly) 
will  be  ready  to  receive — and  the  owner  also — any 
time  before  June,  and  after  July ;  that  is,  before  Mrs. 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  247. 


138   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1878 

Kemble  goes  to  the  Mountains,  and  after  she  returns 
from  them.  I  dare  say  no  more,  after  so  much  so 
often  said,  and  all  about  oneself. 

Yesterday  the  Nightingale ;  and  To-day  a  small, 
still,  Rain  which  we  had  hoped  for,  to  make  '  poindre ' 
the  Flower-seeds  we  put  in  Earth  last  Saturday.  All 
Sunday  my  white  Pigeons  were  employed  in  confis- 
cating the  Sweet  Peas  we  had  laid  there;  so  that 
To-day  we  have  to  sow  the  same  anew. 

I  think  a  Memoir  of  Alfred  de  Musset,  by  his 
Brother,  well  worth  reading.1  I  don't  say  the  best, 
but  only  to  myself  the  most  acceptable  of  modern 
French  Poets ;  and,  as  I  judge,  a  fine  fellow — of  the 
moral  French  type  (I  suppose  some  of  the  Shadow  is 
left  out  of  the  Sketch),  but  of  a  Soul  quite  abhorrent 
from  modern  French  Literature — from  V.  Hugo  (I 
think)  to  E.  Sue  (I  am  sure).  He  loves  to  read — 
Clarissa !  which  reminded  me  of  Tennyson,  some 
forty  years  ago,  saying  to  me  a  propos  of  that  very 
book,  '  I  love  those  large,  still,  Books.'  During  a 
long  Illness  of  A.  de  M.  a  Sister  of  the  Bon  Secours 
attended  him :  and,  when  she  left,  gave  him  a  Pen 
worked  in  coloured  Silks,  '  Pense  a  vos  promesses,' 
as  also  a  little  '  amphore '  she  had  knitted.  Seventeen 
years  (I  think)  after,  when  his  last  Illness  came  on 
him,  he  desired  these  two  things  to  be  enclosed  in 
his  Coffin.2 

And  I  am  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  243.  -  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  248. 


1878]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  139 

LIII. 

Dunwich  :  August  24,  [1878.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  forget  if  I  wrote  to  you  from  this  solitary 
Seaside,  last  year :  telling  you  of  its  old  Priory  walls, 
etc.  I  think  you  must  have  been  in  Switzerland  when 
I  was  here;  however,  I'll  not  tell  you  the  little  there 
is  to  tell  about  it  now ;  for,  beside  that  I  may  have 
told  it  all  before,  this  little  lodging  furnishes  only  a 
steel  pen,  and  very  diluted  ink  (as  you  see),  and  so, 
for  your  own  sake,  I  will  be  brief.  Indeed,  my  chief 
object  in  writing  at  all,  is,  to  ask  when  you  go  abroad, 
and  how  you  have  done  at  Malvern  since  last  I  heard 
from  you — now  a  month  ago,  I  think. 

About  the  beginning  of  next  week  I  shall  be  leaving 
this  place — for  good,  I  suppose — for  the  two  friends — 
Man  and  Wife — who  form  my  Company  here,  living 
a  long  musket  shot  off,  go  away — he  in  broken  health 
— and  would  leave  the  place  too  solitary  without  them. 
So  I  suppose  I  shall  decamp  along  with  them ;  and, 
after  some  time  spent  at  Lowestoft,  find  my  way 
back  to  Woodbridge — in  time  to  see  the  End  of  the 
Flowers,  and  to  prepare  what  is  to  be  done  in  that 
way  for  another  Year. 

And  to  Woodbridge  your  Answer  may  be  directed, 
if  this  poor  Letter  of  mine  reaches  you,  and  you 
should  care  to  answer  it — as  you  will — oh  yes,  you 
will — were  it  much  less  significant. 


140  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

I  have  been  rather  at  a  loss  for  Books  while  here, 
Mudie  having  sent  me  a  lot  I  did  not  care  for — not 
even  for  Lady  Chatterton.  Aldis  Wright  gave  me 
his  Edition  of  Coriolanus  to  read;  and  I  did  not 
think  lpow  wow''  of  it,  as  Volumnia  says.  All  the 
people  were  talking  about  me. 

And  I  am  ever  yours  truly 

E.  F.G. 


LIV. 

Woodbridge  :  April  3/79. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : — 

I  know  well  how  exact  you  are  in  answering 
Letters ;  and  I  was  afraid  that  you  must  be  in  some 
trouble,  for  yourself,  or  others,  when  I  got  no  reply 
to  a  second  Letter  I  wrote  you  addressed  to  Baltimore 
Hotel,  Leamington  —oh,  two  months  ago.  When 
you  last  wrote  to  me,  you  were  there,  with  a  Cough, 
which  you  were  just  going  to  take  with  you  to  Guy's 
Cliff.  That  I  thought  not  very  prudent,  in  the 
weather  we  then  had.  Then  I  was  told  by  some 
one,  in  a  letter  (not  from  any  Donne,  I  think — no, 
Annie  Ritchie,  I  believe)  that  Mrs.  Sartoris  was  very 
ill ;  and  so  between  two  probable  troubles,  I  would 
not  trouble  you  as  yet  again.  I  had  to  go  to  London 
for  a  day  three  weeks  ago  (to  see  a  poor  fellow  dying, 
sooner  or  later,  of  Brain  disease),  and  I  ferreted  out 
Mowbray  Donne  from  Somerset  House  and  he  told 
me  you  were  in  London,  still  ill  of  a  Cough ;  but  not 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  141 

your  Address.  So  I  wrote  to  his  Wife  a  few  days 
ago  to  learn  it;  and  I  shall  address  this  Letter 
accordingly.  Mrs.  Mowbray  writes  that  you  are 
better,  but  obliged  to  take  care  of  yourself.  I  can 
only  say  '  do  not  trouble  yourself  to  write ' — but  I 
suppose  you  will — perhaps  the  more  if  it  be  a  trouble. 
See  what  an  Opinion  I  have  of  you  ! — If  you  write, 
pray  tell  me  of  Mrs.  Sartoris — and  do  not  forget 
yourself. 

It  has  been  such  a  mortal  Winter  among  those  I 
know,  or  know  of,  as  I  never  remember.  I  have  not 
suffered  myself,  further  than,  I  think,  feeling  a  few 
stronger  hints  of  a  constitutional  sort,  which  are,  I 
suppose,  to  assert  themselves  ever  more  till  they  do 
for  me.  And  that,  I  suppose,  cannot  be  long  adoing. 
I  entered  on  my  71st  year  last  Monday,  March  31. 

My  elder — and  now  only — Brother,  John,  has  been 
shut  up  with  Doctor  and  Nurse  these  two  months — 
Mt.  76;  his  Wife  JEt.  80  all  but  dead  awhile  ago, 
now  sufficiently  recovered  to  keep  her  room  in  toler- 
able ease :  I  do  not  know  if  my  Brother  will  ever 
leave  his  house. 

Oh  dear  !     Here  is  enough  of  Mortality. 

I  see  your  capital  Book  is  in  its  third  Edition,  as 
well  it  deserves  to  be.  I  see  no  one  with  whom  to 
talk  about  it,  except  one  brave  Woman  who  comes 
over  here  at  rare  intervals — she  had  read  my  Atlantic 
Copy,  but  must  get  Bentley's  directly  it  appeared, 
and  she  (a  woman  of  remarkably  strong  and  inde- 
pendent Judgment)  loves  it  all — not  (as  some  you 


142  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

know)  wishing  some  of  it  away.  No  ;  she  says  she 
wants  all  to  complete  her  notion  of  the  writer.  Nor 
have  I  heard  of  any  one  who  thinks  otherwise  :  so 
'  some  people '  may  be  wrong.  I  know  you  do  not 
care  about  all  this. 

I  am  getting  my  '  Tales  of  the  Hall '  printed,  and 
shall  one  day  ask  you,  and  three  or  four  beside, 
whether  it  had  better  be  published.  I  think  you, 
and  those  three  or  four  others,  will  like  it ;  but  they 
may  also  judge  that  indifferent  readers  might  not. 
And  that  you  will  all  of  you  have  to  tell  me  when 
the  thing  is  done.  I  shall  not  be  in  the  least 
disappointed  if  you  tell  me  to  keep  it  among  '  our- 
selves,' so  long  as  '  ourselves '  are  pleased ;  for  I 
know  well  that  Publication  would  not  carry  it  much 
further  abroad ;  and  I  am  very  well  content  to  pay 
my  money  for  the  little  work  which  I  have  long 
meditated  doing.  I  shall  have  done  'my  little  owl.' 
Do  you  know  what  that  means  ? — No.  Well  then ; 
my  Grandfather  had  several  Parrots  of  different  sorts 
and  Talents  :  one  of  them  ('  Billy,'  I  think)  could 
only  huff  up  his  feathers  in  what  my  Grandfather 
called  an  owl  fashion;  so  when  Company  were 
praising  the  more  gifted  Parrots,  he  would  say — 
'  You  will  hurt  poor  Billy's  feelings — Come  !  Do 
your  little  owl,  my  dear ! ' — You  are  to  imagine  a 
handsome,  hair-powdered,  Gentleman  doing  this — 
and  his  Daughter — my  Mother — telling  of  it. 

And  so  it  is  I  do  my  little  owl. 

This   little  folly  takes   a   long   bit   of  my  Letter 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  143 

paper — and  I  do  not  know  that  you  will  see  any 
fun  in  it.    Like  my  Book,  it  would  not  tell  in  Public. 

Spedding  reads  my  proofs — for,  though  I  have 
confidence  in  my  Selection  of  the  Verse  (owl),  I 
have  'but  little  in  my  interpolated  Prose,  which  I 
make  obscure  in  trying  to  make  short.  Spedding 
occasionally  marks  a  blunder ;  but  (confound  him  !) 
generally  leaves  me  to  correct  it. 

Come — here  is  more  than  enough  of  my  little  owl. 
At  night  we  read  Sir  Walter  for  an  Hour  (Montrose 
just  now)  by  way  of  'Play' — then  'ten  minutes' 
refreshment  allowed ' — and  the  Curtain  rises  on 
Dickens  (Copperfield  now)  which  sends  me  gaily  to 
bed — after  one  Pipe  of  solitary  Meditation — in  which 
the — 'little  owl,'  etc. 

By  the  way,  in  talking  of  Plays — after  sitting  with 
my  poor  friend  and  his  brave  little  Wife  till  it  was 
time  for  him  to  turn  bed  ward — I  looked  in  at  the 
famous  Lyceum  Hamlet ;  and  soon  had  looked,  and 
heard,  enough.  It  was  incomparably  the  worst  I 
had  ever  witnessed,  from  Covent  Garden  down  to 
a  Country  Barn.  I  should  scarce  say  this  to  you 
if  I  thought  you  had  seen  it ;  for  you  told  me  you 
thought  Irving  might  have  been  even  a  great  Actor, 
from  what  you  saw  of  his  Louis  XI.  I  think.  When 
he  got  to  '  Something  too  much  of  this,'  I  called  out 
from  the  Pit  door  where  I  stood,  'A  good  deal  too 
much,'  and  not  long  after  returned  to  my  solitary  inn. 

Here  is  a  very  long — and,  I  believe,  (as  owls  go) 
a  rather  pleasant  Letter.      You   know  you  are  not 


144-  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

bound  to  repay  it  in  length,  even  if  you  answer  it 
at  all;  which  I  again  vainly  ask  you  not  to  do  if 
a  bore. 

I  hear  from  Mrs.  Mowbray  that  our  dear  Donne  is 
but  '  pretty  well ' ;  and  I  am  still  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LV. 
Woodbridge  :  April  25,  [1879.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  think  I  have  let  sufficient  time  elapse 
before  asking  you  for  another  Letter.  I  want  to 
know  how  you  are :  and,  if  you  can  tell  me  that 
you  are  as  well  as  you  and  I  now  expect  to  be — 
anyhow,  well  rid  of  that  Whooping  Cough — that  will 
be  news  enough  for  one  Letter.  What  else,  you 
shall  add  of  your  own  free  will : — not  feeling  bound. 

When  you  last  wrote  me  from  Leamington,  you 
crossed  over  your  Address  :  and  I  (thinking  perhaps 
of  America)  deciphered  it  '  Baltimore.'  I  wonder 
the  P.  O.  did  not  return  me  my  Letter :  but  there 
was  no  Treason  in  it,  I  dare  say. 

My  Brother  keeps  waiting — and  hoping — for — 
Death :  which  will  not  come :  perhaps  Providence 
would  have  let  it  come  sooner,  were  he  not  rich 
enough  to  keep  a  Doctor  in  the  house,  to  keep  him 
in  Misery.  I  don't  know  if  I  told  you  in  my  last 
that  he  was  ill;  seized  on  by  a  Disease  not  un- 
common to  old   Men — an  'internal    Disorder'  it  is 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  145 

polite  to  say;  but  I  shall  say  to  you,  disease  of  the 
Bladder.  I  had  always  supposed  he  would  be  found 
dead  one  good  morning,  as  my  Mother  was — as  I 
hoped  to  be — quietly  dead  of  the  Heart  which  he 
had  felt  for  several  Years.  But  no ;  it  is  seen  good 
that  he  shall  be  laid  on  the  Rack — which  he  may 
feel  the  more  keenly  as  he  never  suffered  Pain  before, 
and  is  not  of  a  strong  Nerve.  I  will  say  no  more 
of  this.  The  funeral  Bell,  which  has  been  at  work, 
as  I  never  remember  before,  all  this  winter,  is  even 
now,  as  I  write,  tolling  from  St.  Mary's  Steeple. 

'  Parlons  d'autres  choses,'  as  my  dear  Sevigne 
says. 

I — We — have  finished  all  Sir  Walter's  Scotch 
Novels ;  and  I  thought  I  would  try  an  English  one  : 
Kenilworth — a  wonderful  Drama,  which  Theatre, 
Opera,  and  Ballet  (as  I  once  saw  it  represented) 
may  well  reproduce.  The  Scene  at  Greenwich,  where 
Elizabeth  '  interviews '  Sussex  and  Leicester,  seemed 
to  me  as  fine  as  what  is  called  (I  am  told,  wrongly) 
Shakespeare's  Henry  VIII.1  Of  course,  plenty  of 
melodrama  in  most  other  parts : — but  the  Plot 
wonderful. 

Then — after  Sir  Walter — Dickens'  Copperfield, 
which  came  to  an  end  last  night  because  I  would 
not  let  my  Reader  read  the  last  Chapter.  What  a 
touch  when  Peggotty — the  man — at  last  finds  the 
lost  Girl,  and — throws  a  handkerchief  over  her  face 
when  he  takes  her  to  his  arms — never  to  leave  her ! 
1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  265. 

IO 


UNIVERSITY 


146  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

I  maintain  it — a  little  Shakespeare — a  Cockney 
Shakespeare,  if  you  will :  but  as  distinct,  if  not  so 
great,  a  piece  of  pure  Genius  as  was  born  in  Stratford. 
Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that,  had  I  to  choose  but 
one  of  them,  I  would  choose  Dickens'  hundred 
delightful  Caricatures  rather  than  Thackeray's  half- 
dozen  terrible  Photographs. 

In  Michael  Kelly's  Reminiscences !  (quite  worth 
reading  about  Sheridan)  I  found  that,  on  January  22, 
1802,  was  produced  at  Drury  Lane  an  Afterpiece 
called  Urania,  by  the  Honourable  W.  Spencer,  in 
which  '  the  scene  of  Urania's  descent  was  entirely 
new  to  the  stage,  and  produced  an  extraordinary 
effect.'  Hence  then  the  Picture  which  my  poor 
Brother  sent  you  to  America. 

1  D'autres  choses  encore.'  You  may  judge,  I 
suppose,  by  the  N.E.  wind  in  London  what  it  has 
been  hereabout.  Scarce  a  tinge  of  Green  on  the 
hedgerows;  scarce  a  Bird  singing  (only  once  the 
Nightingale,  with  broken  Voice),  and  no  flowers  in 
the  Garden  but  the  brave  old  DarTydowndilly,  and 
Hyacinth — which  I  scarce  knew  was  so  hardy.  I 
am  quite  pleased  to  rind  how  comfortably  they  do 
in  my  Garden,  and  look  so  Chinese  gay.  Two  of 
my  dear  Blackbirds  have  I  found  dead — of  Cold 
and  Hunger,  I  suppose ;  but  one  is  even  now  singing 
— across  that  Funeral  Bell.  This  is  so,  as  I  write, 
and  tell  you — Well :  we  have  Sunshine  at  last — for 
a  day — '  thankful  for  small  Blessings,'  etc. 
1  II,  166  (ed.  1826). 


1 879]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  147 

I  think  I  have  felt  a  little  sadder  since  March  31 
that  shut  my  seventieth  Year  behind  me,  while  my 
Brother  was — in  some  such  way  as  I  shall  be  if  I 
live  two  or  three  years  longer — '  Parlons  d'autres ' 
— that  I  am  still  able  to  be  sincerely  yours 

E.  KG. 


LVI. 

Woodbridge:  May  18,  [1879.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

By  this  Post  you  ought  to  receive  my 
Crabbe  Book,  about  which  I  want  your  Opinion — 
not  as  to  your  own  liking,  which  I  doubt  not  will 
be  more  than  it  deserves :  but  about  whether  it  is 
best  confined  to  Friends,  who  will  like  it,  as  you 
do,  more  or  less  out  of  private  prejudice — Two  points 
in  particular  I  want  you  to  tell  me ; 

(1)  Whether  the  Stories  generally  seem  to  you  to 
be  curtailed  so  much  that  they  do  not  leave  any 
such  impression  as  in  the  Original.  That  is  too  long 
and  tiresome ;  but  (as  in  Richardson)  its  very  length 
serves  to  impress  it  on  the  mind : — My  Abstract  is, 
I  doubt  not,  more  readable :  but,  on  that  account 
partly,  leaving  but  a  wrack  behind.  What  I  have 
done  indeed  is  little  else  than  one  of  the  old  Review 
Articles,  which  gave  a  sketch  of  the  work,  and  let 
the  author  fill  in  with  his  better  work. 

Well  then  I  want  to  know — (2)  if  you  find  the 
present  tense  of  my  Prose  Narrative  discordant  with 


148  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

the  past  tense  of  the  text.  I  adopted  it  partly  by 
way  of  further  discriminating  the  two :  but  I  may 
have  misjudged :  Tell  me :  as  well  as  any  other 
points  that  strike  you.  You  can  tell  me  if  you 
will — and  I  wish  you  would — whether  I  had  better 
keep  the  little  Opus  to  ourselves  or  let  it  take  its 
chance  of  getting  a  few  readers  in  public.  You  may 
tell  me  this  very  plainly,  I  am  sure  ;  and  I  shall 
be  quite  as  well  pleased  to  keep  it  unpublished.  It 
is  only  a  very,  very,  little  Job,  you  see :  requiring 
only  a  little  Taste,  and  Tact :  and  if  they  have  failed 
me —  Voila  !  I  had  some  pleasure  in  doing  my  little 
work  very  dexterously,  I  thought ;  and  I  did  wish 
to  draw  a  few  readers  to  one  of  my  favourite  Books 
which  nobody  reads.  And,  now  that  I  look  over  it, 
I  fancy  that  I  may  have  missed  my  aim — only  that 
my  Friends  will  like,  etc.  Then,  I  should  have  to 
put  some  Preface  to  the  Public :  and  explain  how 
many  omissions,  and  some  transpositions,  have  occas- 
ioned the  change  here  and  there  of  some  initial 
particle  where  two  originally  separated  paragraphs 
are  united ;  some  use  made  of  Crabbe's  original  MS. 
(quoted  in  the  Son's  Edition ;)  and  all  such  confession 
to  no  good,  either  for  my  Author  or  me.  I  wish 
you  could  have  just  picked  up  the  Book  at  a  Railway 
Stall,  knowing  nothing  of  your  old  Friend's  hand  in 
it.  But  that  cannot  be ;  tell  me  then,  divesting  your- 
self of  all  personal  Regard :  and  you  may  depend 
upon  it  you  will — save  me  some  further  bother,  if 
you  bid  me  let  publishing  alone.     I  don't  even  know 


1 879]  T0    FANNY   KEMBLE  149 

of  a  Publisher :  and  won't  have  a  favour  done  me 
by  (ere  a  one  of  them,'  as  Paddies  say.  This 
is  a  terrible  Much  Ado  about  next  to  Nothing. 
'  Parlons,'  etc. 

Blanche  Donne  wrote  me  you  had  been  calling  in 
Weymouth  Street :  that  you  had  been  into  Hampshire, 
and  found  Mrs.  Sartoris  better — Dear  Donne  seems 
to  have  been  pleased  and  mended  by  his  Children 
coming  about  him.  I  say  but  little  of  my  Brother's 
Death.1  We  were  very  good  friends,  of  very  different 
ways  of  thinking ;  I  had  not  been  within  side  his  lawn 
gates  (three  miles  off)  these  dozen  years  (no  fault  of 
his),  and  I  did  not  enter  them  at  his  Funeral — which 
you  will  very  likely — and  properly — think  wrong.  He 
had  suffered  considerably  for  some  weeks  :  but,  as  he 
became  weaker,  and  (I  suppose)  some  narcotic 
Medicine — O  blessed  Narcotic  ! — soothed  his  pains, 
he  became  dozily  happy.  The  Day  before  he  died, 
he  opened  his  Bed-Clothes,  as  if  it  might  be  his 
Carriage  Door,  and  said  to  his  Servant  '  Come — Come 
inside — I  am  going  to  meet  them.' 

Voila  une  petite  Histoire.  Et  voila  bien  assez  de 
mes  Egoi'smes.  Adieu,  Madame ;  dites-moi  tout 
franchement  votre  opinion  sur  ce  petit  Livre ;  ah ! 
vous  n'en  pouvez  parler  autrement  qu'avec  toute 
franchise — et  croyez  moi,  tout  aussi  franchement 
aussi, 

Votre  ami  devoue 

E.  F.G. 

1  John  Purcell  FitzGerald  died  at  Boulge,  May  4th,  1879. 


ISO  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 


LVII. 

Woodbridge  :  May  22,  [1879.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  must  thank  you  for  your  letter;  I  was, 
beforehand,  much  of  your  Opinion ;  and,  unless  I 
hear  very  different  advice  from  the  two  others  whom 
I  have  consulted — Spedding,  the  All-wise — (I  mean 
that),  and  Aldis  Wright,  experienced  in  the  Book- 
sellers' world,  I  shall  very  gladly  abide  by  your 
counsel — and  my  own.  You  (I  do  believe)  and  a 
few  friends  who  already  know  Crabbe,  will  not  be  the 
worse  for  this  '  Handybook '  of  one  of  his  most 
diffuse,  but  (to  me)  most  agreeable,  Books.  That 
name  (Handybook),  indeed,  I  had  rather  thought  of 
calling  the  Book,  rather  than  '  Readings ' — which 
suggests  readings  aloud,  whether  private  or  public — 
neither  of  which  I  intended — simply,  Readings  to 
oneself.  I,  who  am  a  poor  reader  in  any  way,  have 
found  it  all  but  impossible  to  read  Crabbe  to  anybody. 
So  much  for  that — except  that,  the  Portrait  I  had 
prepared  by  way  of  frontispiece  turns  out  to  be  an 
utter  failure,  and  that  is  another  satisfactory  reason 
for  not  publishing.  For  I  particularly  wanted  this 
Portrait,  copied  from  a  Picture  by  Pickersgill  which 
was  painted  in  181 7,  when  these  Tales  were  a-writing, 
to  correct  the  Phillips  Portrait  done  in  the  same  year, 
and  showing  Crabbe  with  his  company  Look — not 
insincere  at  all — but  not  at  all  representing  the  writer. 


1 879]  T0    FANNY   KEMBLE  151 

When  Tennyson  saw  Laurence's  Copy  of  this  Pickers- 
gill — here,  at  my  house  here — he  said — 'There  I 
recognise  the  Man.' 

If  you  were  not  the  truly  sincere  woman  you  are, 
I  should  have  thought  that  you  threw  in  those  good 
words  about  my  other  little  Works  by  way  of  salve 
for  your  dictum  on  this  Crabbe.  But  I  know  it  is 
not  so.  I  cannot  think  what  '  rebuke '  I  gave  you  to 
1  smart  under '  as  you  say.1 

If  you  have  never  read  Charles  Tennyson  (Turner's) 
Sonnets,  I  should  like  to  send  them  to  you  to  read. 
They  are  not  to  be  got  now :  and  I  have  entreated 
Spedding  to  republish  them  with  Macmillan,  with 
such  a  preface  of  his  own — congenial  Critic  and 
Poet — as  would  discover  these  Violets  now  modestly 
hidden  under  the  rank  Vegetation  of  Browning, 
Swinburne,  and  Co.  Some  of  these  Sonnets  have 
a  Shakespeare  fancy  in  them  : — some  rather  puerile — 
but  the  greater  part  of  them,  pure,  delicate,  beautiful, 
and  quite  original.-  I  told  Mr.  Norton  (America) 
to  get  them  published  over  the  water  if  no  one  will 
do  so  here. 

Little  did  I  think  that  I  should  ever  come  to  relish 
— old  Sam  Rogers  !  But  on  taking  him  up  the  other 
day  (with  Stothard's  Designs,  to  be  sure !)  I  found 

1  See  letter  of  May  5th,  1877. 

2  In  a  letter  to  me  dated  May  7th,  1879,  he  says  : — 

1 1  see  by  Athenaeum  that  Charles  Tennyson  (Turner)  is  dead. 
Now  people  will  begin  to  talk  of  his  beautiful  Sonnets :  small,  but 
original,  things,  as  well  as  beautiful.  Especially  after  that  somewhat 
absurd  Sale  of  the  Brothers'  early  Editions.' 


152   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

a  sort  of  Repose  from  the  hatchet-work  School,  of 
which  I  read  in  the  Athenaeum. 

I  like,  you  know,  a  good  Murder  ;  but  in  its  place — 

'  The  charge  is  prepared  ;  the  Lawyers  are  met — 
The  Judges  all  ranged,  a  terrible  Show  ' — 

only  the  other  night  I  could  not  help  reverting  to  that 
sublime — yes  ! — of  Thurtell,  sending  for  his  accomplice 
Hunt,  who  had  saved  himself  by  denouncing  Thurtell 
— sending  for  him  to  pass  the  night  before  Execution 
with  perfect  Forgiveness — Handshaking — and  '  God 
bless  you— God  bless  you — you  couldn't  help  it — I 
hope  you'll  live  to  be  a  good  man.' 

You  accept — and  answer— my  Letters  very  kindly  : 
but  this  — pray  do  think— is  an  answer — verily  by 
return  of  Post — to  yours. 

Here  is  Summer  !  The  leaves  suddenly  shaken 
out  like  flags.  I  am  preparing  for  Nieces,  and  per- 
haps for  my  Sister  Andalusia — who  used  to  visit  my 
Brother  yearly. 

Your  sincere  Ancient 

E.  F.G. 


LVIII. 

Woodbridge  :  August  4,  [1879.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

Two  or  three  days,  I  think,  after  receiving 
your  last  letter,  I  posted  an  answer  addrest  to  the 


|UNIV"; 
1879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  Vila  r 

Poste  Restante  of — Lucerne,  was  it  ? — anyhow,  the 
town  whose  name  you  gave  me,  and  no  more.  Now, 
I  will  venture  through  Coutts,  unwilling  as  I  am  to 
trouble  their  Highnesses —with  whom  my  Family  have 
banked  for  three — if  not  four — Generations.  Other- 
wise, I  do  not  think  they  would  be  troubled  with  my 
Accounts,  which  they  attend  to  as  punctually  as  if  I 
were  '  my  Lord ; '  and  I  am  now  their  last  Customer 
of  my  family,  I  believe,  though  I  doubt  not  they  have 
several  Dozens  of  my  Name  in  their  Books — for 
Better  or  Worse. 

What  now  spurs  me  to  write  is — an  Article 1  I  have 
seen  in  a  Number  of  Macmillan  for  February,  with 
very  honourable  mention  of  your  Brother  John  in  an 
Introductory  Lecture  on  Anglo-Saxon,  by  Professor 
Skeat.  If  you  have  not  seen  this  '  Hurticle '  (as 
Thackeray  used  to  say)  I  should  like  to  send  it  to 
you;  and  will  so  do,  if  you  will  but  let  me  know 
where  it  may  find  you. 

I  have  not  been  away  from  this  place  save  for  a 
Day  or  two  since  last  you  heard  from  me.  In 
a  fortnight  I  may  be  going  to  Lowestoft  along  with 
my  friends  the  Cowells. 

I  take  great  Pleasure  in  Hawthorne's  Journals — 
English,  French,  and  Italian — though  I  cannot  read 
his  Novels.  They  are  too  thickly  detailed  for  me  : 
and  of  unpleasant  matter  too.  We  of  the  Old  World 
beat   the   New,    I    think,  in   a   more  easy  manner; 

1  Professor  Skeat's  Inaugural  Lecture,  in  Macmillan  s  Magazine 
for  February,  1879,  pp.  304-313. 


j  54  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

though  Browning  &  Co.  do  not  bear  me  out  there. 
And  I  am  sincerely  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LIX. 

Lowestoft  :  Sepr.  18,  [1879.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Your  last  letter  told  me  that  you  were  to  be 
back  in  England  by  the  middle  of  this  month.  So 
I  write  some  lines  to  ask  if  you  are  back,  and  where 
to  be  found.  To  be  sure,  I  can  learn  that  much  from 
some  Donne  :  to  the  Father  of  whom  I  must  commit 
this  letter  for  any  further  Direction.  But  I  will  also 
say  a  little — very  little  having  to  say — beyond  asking 
you  how  you  are,  and  in  what  Spirits  after  the  great 
Loss  you  have  endured.1 

Of  that  Loss  I  heard  from  Blanche  Donne — some 
while,  it  appears,  before  you  heard  of  it  yourself.  I 
cannot  say  that  it  was  surprising,  however  sad, 
considering  the  terrible  Illness  she  had  some  fifteen 
years  ago.  I  will  say  no  more  of  it,  nor  of  her,  of 
whom  I  could  say  so  much ;  but  nothing  that  would 
not  be  more  than  superfluous  to  you. 

It  did  so  happen,  that,  the  day  before  I  heard  of 
her  Death,  I  had  thought  to  myself  that  I  would  send 
her  my  Crabbe,  as  to  my  other  friends,  and  wondered 
that  I  had  not  done  so  before.     I  should  have  sent 

1  Mrs.  Sartoris,  Mrs.  Kemble's  sister,  died  August  4,  1879.  See 
'  Further  Records,'  ii.  277. 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  155 

off  the  Volume  for  Donne  to  transmit  when — Blanche's 
Note  came. 

After  writing  of  this,  I  do  not  think  I  should  add 
much  more,  had  I  much  else  to  write  about.  I  will 
just  say  that  I  came  to  this  place  five  weeks  ago  to 
keep  company  with  my  friend  Edward  Cowell,  the 
Professor ;  we  read  Don  Quixote  together  in  a  morn- 
ing, and  chatted  for  two  or  three  hours  of  an  evening ; 
and  now  he  is  gone  away  to  Cambridge  and  [has] 
left  me  to  my  Nephews  and  Nieces  here.  By  the 
month's  end  I  shall  be  home  at  VVoodbridge,  whither 
any  Letter  you  may  please  to  write  me  may  be 
addressed. 

I  try  what  I  am  told  are  the  best  Novels  of  some 
years  back,  but  find  I  cannot  read  any  but  Trollope's. 
So  now  have  recourse  to  Forster's  Life  of  Dickens — 
a  very  good  Book,  I  still  think.  Also,  Eckermann's 
Goethe — almost  as  repeatedly  to  be  read  as  Bos  well's 
Johnson — a  German  Johnson — and  (as  with  Boswell) 
more  interesting  to  me  in  Eckermann's  Diary  than  in 
all  his  own  famous  works. 

Adieu  :  Ever  yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 

I  am  daily — hourly — expecting  to  hear  of  the  Death 
of  another  Friend1 — not  so  old  a  Friend,  but  yet 
a  great  loss  to  me. 

1  Edwin  Edwards,  who  died  September  15.  See  '  Letters,' 
ii.  277. 


156  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 


LX. 

11  Marine  Terrace,  Lowestoft, 

Scpt\  24,  [1879.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  was  to  have  been  at  Woodbridge  before 
this :  and  your  Letter  only  reached  me  here  yester- 
day. I  have  thought  upon  your  desire  to  see  me 
as  an  old  Friend  of  yourself  and  yours ;  and  you 
shall  not  have  the  trouble  of  saying  so  in  vain.  I 
should  indeed  be  perplext  at  the  idea  of  your  coming 
all  this  way  for  such  a  purpose,  to  be  shut  up  at  an 
Hotel  with  no  one  to  look  in  on  you  but  myself  (for 
you  would  not  care  for  my  Kindred  here) — and  my 
own  Woodbridge  House  would  require  a  little  time 
to  set  in  order,  as  I  have  for  the  present  lost  the 
services  of  one  of  my  '  helps '  there.  What  do  you 
say  to  my  going  to  London  to  see  you  instead  of 
your  coming  down  to  see  me  ?  I  should  anyhow 
have  to  go  to  London  soon ;  and  I  could  make  my 
Lroing  sooner,  or  as  soon  as  you  please.  Not  but, 
ir"  you  want  to  get  out  of  London,  as  well  as  to  see 
me,  I  can  surely  get  my  house  right  in  a  little  time, 
and  will  gladly  do  so,  should  you  prefer  it.  I  hope, 
indeed,  that  you  will  not  stay  in  London  at  this  time 
of  year,  when  so  many  friends  are  out  of  it ;  and  it 
has  been  my  thought — and  hope,  I  may  say — that 
you  have  already  betaken  yourself  to  some  pleasant 
place,   with   a  pleasant    Friend   or   two,   which    now 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  157 

keeps  me  from  going  at  once  to  look  for  you  in 
London,  after  a  few  Adieus  here.  Pray  let  me  know 
your  wishes  by  return  of  Post :  and  I  will  do  my  best 
to  meet  them  immediately  :  being 

Ever  sincerely  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LXI. 

WOODBRIDGE  :  Sept.  28,  [1879.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : — 

I  cannot  be  sure  of  your  Address  :  but  I 
venture  a  note — to  say  that — If  you  return  to  London 
on  Wednesday,  I  shall  certainly  run  up  (the  same 
day,  if  I  can)  to  see  you  before  you  again  depart  on 
Saturday,  as  your  letter  proposes.1 

But  I  also  write  to  beg  you  not  to  leave  your 
Daughter  for  ever  so  short  a  while,  simply  because 
you  had  so  arranged,  and  told  me  of  your  Arrange- 
ment. 

If  this  Note  of  mine  reach  you  somehow  to-morrow, 
there  will  be  plenty  of  time  for  you  to  let  me  know 

1  In  a  letter  to  me  of  September  29,  1879,  he  says,  "  My  object 
in  going  to  London  is,  to  see  poor  Mrs.  Edwards,  who  writes  me 
that  she  has  much  collapsed  in  strength  (no  wonder  !)  after  the  Trial 
she  endured  for  near  three  years,  more  or  less,  and,  you  know,  a 
very  hard  fight  for  the  last  year.  .  .   . 

' '  Besides  her,  Mrs.  Kemble,  who  has  lately  lost  her  Sister,  and 
returned  from  Switzerland  to  London  just  at  a  time  when  most  of 
her  Friends  are  out  of  it — she  wants  to  see  me,  an  old  Friend  of  hers 
and  her  Family's,  whom  she  has  not  seen  for  more  than  twenty 
years.  So  I  do  hope  to  do  my  '  petit  possible '  to  solace  both  these 
poor  Ladies  at  the  same  time." 


158   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

whether  you  go  or  not :  and,  even  if  there  be  not 
time  before  Wednesday,  why,  I  shall  take  no  harm 
in  so  far  as  I  really  have  a  very  little  to  do,  and 
moreover  shall  see  a  poor  Lady  who  has  just  lost 
her  husband,  after  nearly  three  years  anxious  and 
uncertain  watching,  and  now  finds  herself  (brave  and 
strong  little  Woman)  somewhat  floored  now  the  long 
conflict  is  over.  These  are  the  people  I  may  have 
told  you  of  whom  I  have  for  some  years  met  here 
and  there  in  Suffolk— chiefly  by  the  Sea;  and  we 
somehow  suited  one  another.1  He  was  a  brave, 
generous,  Boy  (of  sixty)  with  a  fine  Understanding, 
and  great  Knowledge  and  Relish  of  Books  :  but  he 
had  applied  too  late  in  Life  to  Painting  which  he 
could  not  master,  though  he  made  it  his  Profession. 
A  remarkable  mistake,  I  always  thought,  in  so 
sensible  a  man. 

Whether  I  find  you  next  week,  or  afterward  (for 
I  promise  to  find  you  any  time  you  appoint)  I  hope 
to  find  you  alone — for  twenty  years'  Solitude  make 
me  very  shy  :  but  always  your  sincere 

E.  F.G. 


1  On  September  11  he  wrote  to  me,  'Ah,  pleasant  Dunwich 
Days  !  I  should  never  know  a  better  Boy  than  Edwards,  nor  a 
braver  little  Wife  than  her,  were  I  to  live  six  times  as  long  as  I  am 
like  to  do.' 


1 879]  TO  FANNY    KEMBLE  159 


LXII. 

Little  Grange  :  Woodbridge.     October  7,  [1879.] 
Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

When  I  got  home  yesterday,  and  emptied 
my  Pockets,  I  found  the  precious  Enclosure  which 
I  had  meant  to  show,  and  (if  you  pleased)  to  give 
you.  A  wretched  Sketch  (whether  by  me  or  another, 
I  know  not)  of  your  Brother  John  in  some  Cambridge 
Room,  about  the  year  1832-3,  when  he  and  I  were 
staying  there,  long  after  Degree  time — he,  studying 
Anglo-Saxon,  I  suppose — reading  something,  you  see, 
with  a  glass  of  Ale  on  the  table — or  old  Piano-forte 
was  it  ? — to  which  he  would  sing  very  well  his  German 
Songs.     Among  them, 


ii{ — 1=3 


^5zit 


:&c. 


Do  you  remember  ?  I  afterwards  associated  it  with 
some  stray  verses  applicable  to  one  I  loved. 

'  Heav'n  would  answer  all  your  wishes, 
Were  it  much  as  Earth  is  here  ; 
Flowing  Rivers  full  of  Fishes, 
And  good  Hunting  half  the  Year.' 

Well : — here  is  the  cause  of  this  Letter,  so  soon  after 
our  conversing  together,  face  to  face,  in  Queen  Anne's 
Mansions.  A  strange  little  After-piece  to  twenty 
years'  Separation. 


160   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

And  now,  here  are  the  Sweet  Peas,  and  Marigolds, 
sown  in  the  Spring,  still  in  a  faded  Blossom,  and  the 
Spirit  that  Tennyson  told  us  of  fifty  years  ago  haunt- 
ing the  Flower-beds,1  and  a  Robin  singing — nobody 
else. 

And  I  am  to  lose  my  capital  Reader,  he  tells  me, 
in  a  Fortnight,  no  Book-binding  surviving  under  the 
pressure  of  Bad  Times  in  little  Woodbridge.  '  My 
dear  Fitz,  there  is  no  Future  for  little  Country 
towns/  said  Pollock  to  me  when  he  came  here  some 
years  ago. 

But  my  Banker  here  found  the  Bond  which  he  had 
considered  unnecessary,  safe  in  his  Strong  Box : — and 
I  am  your  sincere  Ancient 

E.  F.G. 

Burn  the  poor  Caricature  if  offensive  to  you.  The 
'  Alexander '  profile  was  become  somewhat  tarnished 
then. 


LXIII. 

Woodbridge:  Oct.  27,  [1879.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  am  glad  to  think  that  my  Regard  for  you 
and  yours,  which  I  know  to  be  sincere,  is  of  some 
pleasure  to  you.  Till  I  met  you  last  in  London,  I 
thought  you  had  troops  of  Friends  at  call ;  I  had  not 
reflected  that  by  far  the  greater  number  of  them  could 

1  See  letter  of  October  4,  1875. 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  161 

not  be  Old  Friends ;  and  those  you  cling  to,  I  feel, 
with  constancy. 

I  and  my  company  (viz.  Crabbe,  etc.)  could  divert 
you  but  little  until  your  mind  is  at  rest  about  Mrs. 
Leigh.  I  shall  not  even  now  write  more  than  to  say 
that  a  Letter  from  Mowbray,  which  tells  of  the  kind 
way  you  received  him  and  his  Brother,  says  also  that 
his  Father  is  well,  and  expects  Valentia  and  Spouse 
in  November. 

This  is  all  I  will  write.  You  will  let  me  know  by 
a  line,  I  think,  when  that  which  you  wait  for  has  come 
to  pass.  A  Post  Card  with  a  few  words  on  it  will 
suffice. 

You  cross  over  your  Address  (as  usual)  but  I  do 
my  best  to  find  you. 

Ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LXIV. 

Woodbridge:  OcF.  [?  Nov.]  4/79. 
My  dear  Lady  : — 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  am  very  glad  of 
the  news  your  note  of  Sunday  tells  me  :  and  I  take 
it  as  a  pledge  of  old  Regard  that  you  told  it  me  so 
soon :  even  but  an  hour  after  that  other  Kemble  was 
born.1 

I  know  not  if  the  short  letter  which  I  addressed  to 

1  Mrs.  Leigh's  son,  Pierce  Butler,  was  born  on  Sunday,  November 
2,  1879. 

II 


i62   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

4  Everton  Place,  Leamington  (as  I  read  it  in  your 
former  Letter),  reached  you.  Whatever  the  place 
be  called,  I  expect  you  are  still  there ;  and  there  will 
be  for  some  time  longer.  As  there  may  be  some 
anxiety  for  some  little  time,  I  shall  not  enlarge  as 
usual  on  other  matters ;  if  I  do  not  hear  from  you, 
I  shall  conclude  that  all  is  going  on  well,  and  shall 
write  again.  Meanwhile,  I  address  this  Letter  to 
London,  you  see,  to  make  sure  of  you  this  time  : 
and  am  ever  yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 
By  the  by,  I  think  the  time  is  come  when,  if  you 
like  me  well  enough,  you  may  drop  my  long  Surname, 
except  for  the  external  Address  of  your  letter.  It 
may  seem,  but  is  not,  affectation  to  say  that  it  is  a 
name  I  dislike ; l  for  one  reason,  it  has  really  caused 
me  some  confusion  and  trouble  with  other  more  or 
less  Irish  bodies,  being  as  common  in  Ireland  as 
*  Smith,'  etc.,  here — and  particularly  with  *  Edward ' 
— I  suppose  because  of  the  patriot  Lord  who  bore 
[it].  I  should  not,  even  if  I  made  bold  to  wish  so 
to  do,  propose  to  treat  you  in  the  same  fashion ; 
inasmuch  as  I  like  your  Kemble  name,  which  has 
become  as  it  were  classical  in  England. 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  326. 


iS79]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  163 

LXV. 

WOODBRIDGE  :    Nov.  I3/79. 

My  dear  Lady, 

Now  that  your  anxieties  are,  as  I  hope,  over, 
and  that  you  are  returned,  as  I  suppose,  to  London, 
I  send  you  a  budget.  First:  the  famous  Belvidere 
Hat ;  which  I  think  you  ought  to  stick  into  your 
Records.1  Were  I  a  dozen  years  younger,  I  should 
illustrate  all  the  Book  in  such  a  way;  but,  as  my 
French  song  says,  '  Le  Temps  est  trop  court  pour  de 
si  longs  projets.' 

Next,  you  behold  a  Photo  of  Carlyle's  Niece,  which 
he  bid  her  send  me  two  or  three  years  ago  in  one  of 
her  half-yearly  replies  to  my  Enquiries.  What  a 
shrewd,  tidy,  little  Scotch  Body  !  Then  you  have  her 
last  letter,  telling  of  her  Uncle,  and  her  married  Self, 
and  thanking  me  for  a  little  Wedding  gift  which  I 
told  her  was  bought  from  an  Ipswich  Pawnbroker2 — 
a  very  good,  clever  fellow,  who  reads  Carlyle,  and 
comes  over  here  now  and  then  for  a  talk  with  me. 
Mind,  when  you  return  me  the  Photo,  that  you  secure 

1  Mrs.  Kemble  appears  to  have  adopted  this  suggestion.  In  her 
'  Records  of  a  Girlhood,'  ii.  41,  she  says  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
'  He  came  repeatedly  to  consult  with  my  mother  about  the  disputed 
point  of  my  dress,  and  gave  his  sanction  to  her  decision  upon  t. 
The  first  dress  of  Belvidera  [in  Venice  Preserved],  I  remember,  was 
a  point  of  nice  discussion  between  them.  ...  I  was  allowed  (not, 
however,  without  serious  demur  on  the  part  of  Lawrence)  to  cover 
my  head  with  a  black  hat  and  white  feather.' 

2  William  Mason. 


1 64  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

it  around  with  your  Letter  paper,  that  the  Postman 
may  not  stamp  into  it.  Perhaps  this  trouble  is  scarce 
worth  giving  you. 

1  Clerke  Sanders'  has  been  familiar  to  me  these 
fifty  years  almost;  since  Tennyson  used  to  repeat 
it,  and  '  Helen  of  Kirkconnel,'  at  some  Cambridge 
gathering.  At  that  time  he  looked  something  like 
the  Hyperion  shorn  of  his  Beams  in  Keats'  Poem : 
with  a  Pipe  in  his  mouth.  Afterwards  he  got  a 
touch,  I  used  to  say,  of  Haydon's  Lazarus.  Talking 
of  Keats,  do  not  forget  to  read  Lord  Houghton's 
Life  and  Letters  of  him :  in  which  you  will  find  what 
you  may  not  have  guessed  from  his  Poetry  (though 
almost  unfathomably  deep  in  that  also)  the  strong, 
masculine,  Sense  and  Humour,  etc.,  of  the  man: 
more  akin  to  Shakespeare,  I  am  tempted  to  think,  in 
a  perfect  circle  of  Poetic  Faculties,  than  any  Poet 
since. 

Well :  the  Leaves  which  hung  on  more  bravely 
than  ever  I  remember  are  at  last  whirling  away  in  a 
Cromwell  Hurricane — (not  quite  that,  neither) — and 
my  old  Man  says  he  thinks  Winter  has  set  in  at  last. 
We  cannot  complain  hitherto.  Many  summer  flowers 
held  out  in  my  Garden  till  a  week  ago,  when  we  dug 
up  the  Beds  in  order  for  next  year.  So  now  little  but 
the  orange  Marigold,  which  I  love  for  its  colour  (Irish 
and  Spanish)  and  Courage,  in  living  all  Winter 
through.  Within  doors,  I  am  again  at  my  everlasting 
Crabbe  !  doctoring  his  Posthumous  Tales  a  la  mode 
of  those  of  '  The  Hall,'  to  finish  a  Volume  of  simple 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  165 

1 Selections'  from  his  other  works:  all  which  I  will 
leave  to  be  used,  or  not,  whenever  old  Crabbe  rises 
up   again:    which   will   not   be   in    the   Lifetime   of 
yours  ever 

E.  F.G. 
I  dared  not  decypher  all  that  Mrs.  Wister  wrote  in 
my  behalf — because    I   knew  it    must    be    sincere ! 
Would  she  care  for  mv  Eternal  Crabbe  ? 


LXVI. 


[Nov.  1879.] 


My  dear  Lady, 

I  must  say  a  word  upon  a  word  in  your  last 
which  really  pains  me — about  yours  and  Mrs.  Wister's 
sincerity,  etc.  Why,  I  do  most  thoroughly  believe  in 
both  j  all  I  meant  was  that,  partly  from  your  own  old 
personal  regard  for  me,  and  hers,  perhaps  inherited 
from  you,  you  may  both  very  sincerely  over-rate  my 
little  dealings  with  other  great  men's  thoughts.  For 
you  know  full  well  that  the  best  Head  may  be  warped 
by  as  good  a  Heart  beating  under  it ;  and  one  loves 
the.  Head  and  Heart  all  the  more  for  it.  Now  all 
this  is  all  so  known  to  you  that  I  am  vexed  you  will 
not  at  once  apply  it  to  what  I  may  have  said.  I  do 
think  that  I  have  had  to  say  something  of  the  same 
sort  before  now;  and  I  do  declare  I  will  not  say  it 
again,  for  it  is  simply  odious,  all  this  talking  of 
oneself. 

Yet  one  thing  more.     I  did  go  to  London  on  this 


1 66  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1879 

last  occasion  purposely  to  see  you  at  that  particular 
time :  for  I  had  not  expected  Mrs.  Edwards  to  be  in 
London  till  a  Fortnight  afterward,  until  two  or  three 
days  after  I  had  arranged  to  go  and  meet  you  the 
very  day  you  arrived,  inasmuch  as  you  had  told  me 
you  were  to  be  but  a  few  days  in  Town. 

There — there  !  Only  believe  me  ;  my  sincerity, 
Madam ;  and —  Voila  ce  qui  est  fait.     Parlous,  etc. 

Well :  Mrs.  Edwards  has  opened  an  Exhibition  of 
her  husband's  works  in  Bond  Street — contrary  to  my 
advice — and,  it  appears,  rightly  contrary  :  for  over 
^300  of  them  were  sold  on  the  first  private  View 
day,1  and  Tom  Taylor,  the  great  Art  Critic  (who 
neither  by  Nature  nor  Education  can  be  such, 
1  cleverest  man  in  London,'  as  Tennyson  once  said 
he  was),  has  promised  a  laudatory  notice  in  the 
omnipotent  Times,  and  then  People  will  flock  in  like 
Sheep.  And  I  am  very  glad  to  be  proved  a  Fool  in 
the  matter,  though  I  hold  my  own  opinion  still  of  the 
merit  of  the  Picture  part  of  the  Show.  Enough  !  as 
we  Tragic  Writers  say:  it  is  such  a  morning  as  I 
would  not  have  sacrificed  indoors  or  in  letter-writing 
to  any  one  but  yourself,  and  on  the  subject  named. 

BELIEVE    ME    YOURS    SINCERELY. 
1  November  10,  1879. 


1 879]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  167 

LXVII. 

Woodbridge:  Decr.  10,  [1879.] 
My  dear  Lady, 

Pray  let  me  know  how  you  have  fared  thus 
far  through  Winter — which  began  so  early,  and 
promises  to  continue  so  long.  Even  in  Jersey  Fred. 
Tennyson  writes  me  it  is  all  Snow  and  N.E.  wind: 
and  he  says  the  North  of  Italy  is  blocked  up  with 
Snow.  You  may  imagine  that  we  are  no  better  off 
in  the  East  of  England.  How  is  it  in  London,  and 
with  yourself  in  Queen  Anne's  Mansions?  I  fancy 
that  you  walk  up  and  down  that  ante-room  of  yours 
for  a  regular  time,  as  I  force  myself  to  do  on  a 
Landing-place  in  this  house  when  I  cannot  get  out 
upon  what  I  call  my  Quarter-deck :  a  walk  along  a 
hedge  by  the  upper  part  of  a  field  which  '  dominates ' 
(as  the  phrase  now  goes)  over  my  House  and  Garden. 
But  I  have  for  the  last  Fortnight  had  Lumbago, 
which  makes  it  much  easier  to  sit  down  than  to  get 
up  again.  However,  the  time  goes,  and  I  am  surprised 
to  find  Sunday  come  round  again.  (Here  is  my  funny 
little  Reader  come — to  give  me  *  All  the  Year  Round  ' 
and  Sam  Slick.) 

Friday. 

I  suppose  I  should  have  finished  this  Letter  in  the 
way  it  begins,  but  by  this  noon's  post  comes  a  note 
from  my  Brother-in-law,  De  Soyres,  telling  me  that 


168   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

his  wife  Andalusia  died  yesterday.1  She  had  some- 
while  suffered  with  a  weak  Heart,  and  this  sudden 
and  extreme  cold  paralysed  what  vitality  it  had.  But 
yesterday  I  had  posted  her  a  Letter  re-enclosing  two 
Photographs  of  her  Grand  Children  whom  she  was 
very  fond  and  proud  of;  and  that  Letter  is  too  late, 
you  see.  Now,  none  but  Jane  Wilkinson  and  E.  F.G. 
remain  of  the  many  more  that  you  remember,  and 
always  looked  on  with  kindly  regard.  This  news 
cuts  my  Letter  shorter  than  it  would  have  been ; 
nevertheless  pray  let  me  know  how  you  yourself  are  : 
and  believe  me  yours 

Ever  and  truly, 

E.  F.G. 
I  have  had  no  thought  of  going  to  London  yet :  but 
I  shall  never  go  in  future  without  paying  a  Visit  to 
you,  if  you  like  it.  I  know  not  how  Mrs.  Edwards' 
Exhibition  of  her  Husband's  Pictures  succeeds :  I 
begged  her  to  leave  such  a  scheme  alone ;  I  cannot 
admire  his  Pictures  now  he  is  gone  more  than  I  did 
when  he  was  here ;  but  I  hope  that  others  will  prove 
me  to  be  a  bad  adviser. 


LXVIII. 

Woodbridge  :  Jan.  8/80. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  think  sufficient  time  has  elapsed  since  my 
last  letter  to  justify  my  writing  you  another,  which, 

1  Mrs.  De  Soyres  died  at  Exeter,  December  11,  1879. 


1SS0J  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  169 

you  know,  means  calling  on  you  to  reply.  When  last 
you  wrote,  you  were  all  in  Flannel ;  pray  let  me  hear 
you  now  are.  Certainly,  we  are  better  off  in  weather 
than  a  month  ago :  but  I  fancy  these  Fogs  must  have 
been  dismal  enough  in  London.  A  Letter  which  I 
have  this  morning  from  a  Niece  in  Florence  tells  me 
they  have  had  '  London  Fog '  (she  says)  for  a  Fortnight 
there.  She  says,  that  my  sister  Jane  (your  old  Friend) 
is  fairly  well  in  health,  but  very  low  in  Spirits  after 
that  other  Sister's  Death.  I  will  [not]  say  of  myself 
that  I  have  weathered  away  what  Rheumatism  and 
Lumbago  I  had ;  nearly  so,  however ;  and  tramp 
about  my  Garden  and  Hedgerow  as  usual.  And  so 
I  clear  off  Family  scores  on  my  side.  Pray  let  me 
know,  when  you  tell  of  yourself,  how  Mrs.  Leigh  and 
those  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  fare. 

Poor  Mrs.  Edwards,  I  doubt,  is  disappointed  with 
her  Husband's  Gallery :  not  because  of  its  only  just 
repaying  its  expenses,  except  in  so  far  as  that  implies 
that  but  few  have  been  to  see  it.  She  says  she  feels 
as  if  she  had  nothing  to  live  for,  now  that  '  her  poor 
Old  Dear'  is  gone.  Gne  fine  day  she  went  down  to 
Woking  where  he  lies,  and — she  did  not  wish  to  come 
back.  It  was  all  solitary,  and  the  grass  beginning  to 
spring,  and  a  Blackbird  or  two  singing.  She  ought,  I 
think,  to  have  left  London,  as  her  Doctor  told  her, 
for  a  total  change  of  Scene  ;  but  she  may  know  best, 
being  a  very  clever,  as  well  as  devoted  little  Woman. 

Well — you  saw  'The  Falcon'?1     Athenaeum  and 

1  Played  at  St.  James's  Theatre,  December  18,  1879. 


^     of  :       ^y 

UNIVERSITY 


170  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

Academy  reported  of  it  much  as  I  expected.  One  of 
them  said  the  Story  had  been  dramatised  before  :  I 
wonder  why.  What  reads  lightly  and  gracefully  in 
Boccaccio's  Prose,  would  surely  not  do  well  when 
drawn  out  into  dramatic  Detail :  two  People  reconciled 
to  Love  over  a  roasted  Hawk ;  about  as  unsavoury 
a  Bird  to  eat  as  an  Owl,  I  believe.  No  doubt  there 
was  a  Chicken  substitute  at  St.  James',  but  one  had 
to  believe  it  to  be  Hawk  ;  and,  anyhow,  I  have  always 
heard  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  eat,  and  talk,  on  the 
Stage — though  people  seem  to  manage  it  easily  enough 
in  real  Life. 

By  way  of  a  Christmas  Card  I  sent  Carlyle's  Niece 
a  Postage  one,  directed  to  myself,  on  the  back  of 
which  she  might  [write]  a  few  words  as  to  how  he  and 
herself  had  weathered  the  late  Cold.  She  replied 
that  he  was  well  :  had  not  relinquished  his  daily 
Drives :  and  was  (when  she  wrote)  reading  Shake- 
speare and  Boswell's  Hebrides.  The  mention  of  him 
reminds  me  of  your  saying — or  writing — that  you  felt 
shy  of  '  intruding '  yourself  upon  him  by  a  Visit.  My 
dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  this  is  certainly  a  mistake  (wilful  ?) 
of  yours ;  he  may  have  too  many  ordinary  Visitors ; 
but  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  would  be  gratified  at  your 
taking  the  trouble  to  go  and  see  him.  Pray  try, 
weather  and  flannel  permitting. 

I  find  some  good  Stuff  in  Bagehot's  Essays,  in  spite 
of  his  name,  which  is  simply  '  Bagot,'  as  men  call  it. 
Also,  I  find  Hayward's  Select  Essays  so  agreeable 
that  I  suppose  they  are  very  superficial. 


i88o]  TO   FANNY   KEMBLE  171 

At  night  comes  my  quaint  little  Reader  with 
Chambers'  Journal,  and  All  [the]  Year  Round — the 
latter  with  one  of  Trollope's  Stories 1 — always  delight- 
ful to  me,  and  (I  am  told)  very  superficial  indeed,  as 
compared  to  George  Eliot,  whom  I  cannot  relish 
at  all. 

Thus  much  has  come  easily  to  my  pen  this  day, 
and  run  on,  you  see,  to  the  end  of  a  second  Sheet.  So 
I  will  '  shut  up/  as  young  Ladies  now  say ;  but  am 
always  and  sincerely  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LXIX. 

Woodbridge:  Febr:  3/80. 
My  dear  Lady, 

I  do  not  think  it  is  a  full  month  since  I  last 
taxed  you  for  some  account  of  yourself :  but  we  have 
had  hard  weather,  you  know,  ever  since  :  your  days 
have  been  very  dark  in  London,  I  am  told,  and  as  we 
have  all  been  wheezing  under  them,  down  here,  I 
want  to  know  how  you  stand  it  all.  I  only  hope  my 
MS.  is  not  very  bad  ;  for  I  am  writing  by  Candle, 
before  my  Reader  comes.  He  eat  such  a  Quantity  of 
Cheese  and  Cake  between  the  Acts  that  he  could 
scarce  even  see  to  read  at  all  after;  so  I  had  to 
remind  him  that,  though  he  was  not  quite  sixteen,  he 
had  much  exceeded  the  years  of  a  Pig.  Since  which 
we   get   on   better.     1   did   not  at  all   like  to  have 

1  « The  Duke's  Children. 


172  LETTERS  OF   EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

my  Dombey  spoiled ;  especially  Captain  Cuttle,  God 
bless  him,  and  his  Creator,  now  lying  in  Westminster 
Abbey.  The  intended  Pathos  is,  as  usual,  missed  : 
but  just  turn  to  little  Dombey's  Funeral,  where  the 
Acrobat  in  the  Street  suspends  his  performance  till 
the  Funeral  has  passed,  and  his  Wife  wonders  if  the 
little  Acrobat  in  her  Arms  will  so  far  outlive  the  little 
Boy  in  the  Hearse  as  to  wear  a  Ribbon  through  his 
hair,  following  his  Father's  Calling.  It  is  in  such 
Side-touches,  you  know,  that  Dickens  is  inspired  to 
Create  like  a  little  God  Almighty.  I  have  read  half 
his  lately  published  letters,  which,  I  think,  add  little 
to  Forster's  Account,  unless  in  the  way  of  showing 
what  a  good  Fellow  Dickens  was.  Surely  it  does  not 
seem  that  his  Family  were  not  fond  of  him,  as  you 
supposed  ? 

I  have  been  to  Lowestoft  for  a  week  to  see  my 
capital  Nephew,  Edmund  Kerrich,  before  he  goes  to 
join  his  Regiment  in  Ireland.  I  wish  you  could  see 
him  make  his  little  (six  years  old)  put  him  through 
his  Drill.  That  is  worthy  of  Dickens :  and  I  am 
always  yours  sincerely — and  I  do  hope  not  just  now 
very  illegibly — 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 


iSSo]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  173 

LXX. 

Woodbridge:  Febr  ;  12/80. 
My  dear  Mrs.   Kemble  : 

A  week  ago  I  had  a  somewhat  poor  account 
of  Donne  from  Edith  D. — that  he  had  less  than  his 
usually  little  Appetite,  and  could  not  sleep  without 
Chloral.  This  Account  I  at  first  thought  of  sending 
to  you :  but  then  I  thought  you  would  soon  be  back 
in  London  to  hear  [of]  him  yourself;  so  I  sent  it 
to  his  great  friend  Merivale,  who,  I  thought,  must 
have  less  means  of  hearing  about  him  at  Ely.  I 
enclose  you  this  Dean's  letter :  which  you  will  find 
worth  the  trouble  of  decyphering,  as  all  this  Dean's 
are.  And  you  will  see  there  is  a  word  for  you  which 
you  will  have  to  interpret  for  me.  What  is  the 
promised  work  he  is  looking  for  so  eagerly  ? x  Your 
Records  he  '  devoured '  a  Year  ago,  as  a  letter  of 
his  then  told  me ;  and  I  suppose  that  his  other  word 
about  the  number  of  your  Father's  house  refers  to 
something  in  those  Records.  I  am  not  surprised  at 
such  an  Historian  reading  your  Records  :  but  I  was 
surprised  to  find  him  reading  Charles  Mathews' 
Memoir,  as  you  will  see  he  has  been  doing.  I  told 
him  I  had  been  reading  it :  but  then  that  is  all  in 
my  line.  Have  you  ?  No,  I  think :  nor  I,  by  the 
way,  quite  half,  and  that  in  Vol.  ii. — where  is  realty 

1  Probably  the  '  Records  of  Later  Life,'  published  in  1882. 


174  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

a  remarkable  account  of  his  getting  into  Managerial 
Debt,  and  its  very  grave  consequences. 

I  hear  that  Mr.  Lowell  is  coming  Ambassador  to 
England,  after  a  very  terrible  trial  in  nursing  (as  he 
did)  his  Wife  :  who  is  only  very  slowly  recovering 
Mind  as  well  as  Body.  I  believe  I  wrote  all  this  to 
you  before,  as  also  that  I  am  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

I  cannot  remember  Pangloss  in  Candide  :  only  a 
Pedant  Optimist,  I  think,  which  became  the  soubriquet 
of  Maupertuis'  Akakia  Optimism  ;  but  I  have  not  the 
book,  and  do  not  want  to  have  it. 

LXXI. 
Woodbridge,  March  I,  [1880.] 

My  dear  Lady, 

I  am  something  like  my  good  old  friend 
Bernard  Barton,  who  would  begin — and  end — a  letter 
to  some  one  who  had  just  gone  away  from  his  house. 
I  should  not  mind  that,  only  you  will  persist  in 
answering  what  calls  for  no  answer.  But  the  enclosed 
came  here  To-day,  and  as  I  might  mislay  it  if  I  waited 
for  my  average  time  of  writing  to  you,  I  enclose  it  to 
you  now.  It  shows,  at  any  rate,  that  I  do  not  neglect 
your  Queries  ;  nor  does  he  to  whom  I  refer  what  I 
cannot  answer  myself.1 

1  On  1st  February,  1880,  FitzGerald  wrote  to  me: — "Do  you 
know  what  'Stub  Iron'  is?  (I  do),  and  what  'Heel-taps'  derives 
from,  which  Mrs.  Kemble  asks,  and  I  cannot  tell  her."  This  is 
probably  the  query  referred  to. 


i88o]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  175 

This  Wright  edits  certain  Shakespeare  Plays  for 
Macmillan :  very  well,  I  fancy,  so  far  as  Notes  go ; 
simply  explaining  what  needs  explanation  for  young 
Readers,  and  eschewing  all  cesthetic  (now,  don't  say 
you  don't  know  what  '  aesthetic  '  means,  etc.)  aesthetic 
(detestable  word)  observation.  With  this  the  Swin- 
burnes,  Furnivalls,  Athenaeums,  etc.,  find  fault :  and  a 
pretty  hand  they  make  of  it  when  they  try  that  tack. 
It  is  safest  surely  to  give  people  all  the  Data  you  can 
for  forming  a  Judgment,  and  then  leave  them  to 
form  it  by  themselves. 

You  see  that  I  enclose  you  the  fine  lines x  which  I 
believe  I  repeated  to  you,  and  which  I  wish  you  to 
paste  on  the  last  page  of  my  Crabbe,  so  as  to  be  a 
pendant  to  Richard's  last  look  at  the  Children  and 
their  play.  I  know  not  how  I  came  to  leave  it  out 
when  first  printing  :  for  certainly  the  two  passages 
had  for  many  years  run  together  in  my  Memory. 

Adieu,  Madame:  non  pas  pour  toujours,  j'espere; 
pas  meme  pour  long  temps.  Cependant,  ne  vous 
genez  pas,  je  vous  prie,  en  repondant  a  une  lettre  qui 
ne  vaut — qui  ne  reclame  pas  meme — aucune  reponse  : 
tandis  que  vous  me  croyez  votre  tres  devoue 

Edouard  de  Petitgrange. 

1  Beginning  '  As  men  may  children  at  their  sports  behold  ! ' — 
Tales  of  the  Hall,  book  xxi. ,  at  the  end  of  '  Smugglers  and 
Poachers.' 


176   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1880 

LXXII. 

Woodbriuge  :  March  26,  [1880.] 
My  dear  Lady  : 

The  Moon  has  reminded  me  that  it  is  a 
month  since  I  last  went  up  to  London.  I  said  to  the 
Cabman  who  took  me  to  Queen  Anne's,  '  I  think  it 
must  be  close  on  Full  Moon,'  and  he  said,  'I  shouldn't 
wonder,'  not  troubling  himself  to  look  back  to  the 
Abbey  over  which  she  was  riding.  Well ;  I.  am  sure 
I  have  little  enough  to  tell  you  ;  but  I  shall  be  glad  to 
hear  from  you  that  you  are  well  and  comfortable,  if 
nothing  else.  And  you  see  that  I  am  putting  my 
steel  pen  into  its  very  best  paces  all  for  you.  By  far 
the  chief  incident  in  my  life  for  the  last  month  has 
been  the  reading  of  dear  old  Spedding's  Paper  on  the 
Merchant  of  Venice : 1  there,  at  any  rate,  is  one 
Question  settled,  and  in  such  a  beautiful  way  as  only 
he  commands.  I  could  not  help  writing  a  few  lines 
to  tell  him  what  I  thought ;  but  even  very  sincere 
praise  is  not  the  way  to  conciliate  him.  About 
Christmas  I  wrote  him,  relying  on  it  that  I  should 
be  most  likely  to  secure  an  answer  if  I  expressed 
dissent  from  some  other  work  of  his ;  and  my  expecta- 
tion was  justified  by  one  of  the  fullest  answers  he  had 
written  to  me  for  many  a  day  and  year. 

I  read  in  one  of  my  Papers  that  Tennyson  had 

1  In  the  Cornhill  Magazine,   March,  1880,   '  The  Story  of   the 
Merchant  of  Venice.' 


i88o]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  177 

another  Play  accepted  at  the  Lyceum.  I  think  he  is 
obstinate  in  such  a  purpose,  but,  as  he  is  a  Man  of 
Genius,  he  may  surprise  us  still  by  a  vindication  of 
what  seem  to  me  several  Latter-day  failures.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  as  hard  for  him  to  relinquish  his  Vocation 
as  other  men  find  it  to  be  in  other  callings  to  which 
they  have  been  devoted ;  but  I  think  he  had  better 
not  encumber  the  produce  of  his  best  days  by  publish- 
ing so  much  of  inferior  quality. 

Under  the  cold  Winds  and  Frosts  which  have  lately 
visited  us — and  their  visit  promises  to  be  a  long  one 
— my  garden  Flowers  can  scarce  get  out  of  the  bud, 
even  Daffodils  have  hitherto  failed  to  '  take  the  winds,' 
etc.  Crocuses  early  nipt  and  shattered  (in  which  my 
Pigeons  help  the  winds)  and  Hyacinths  all  ready,  if 
but  they  might ! 

My  Sister  Lusia's  Widower  has  sent  me  a  Drawing 
by  Sir  T.  Lawrence  of  my  Mother :  bearing  a  sur- 
prising resemblance  to — The  Duke  of  Wellington. 
This  was  done  in  her  earlier  days — I  suppose,  not  long 
after  I  was  born — for  her,  and  his  (Lawrence's)  friend 
Mrs.  Wolff:  and  though,  I  think,  too  Wellingtonian, 
the  only  true  likeness  of  her.  Engravings  were  made 
of  it — so  good  as  to  be  facsimiles,  I  think — to  be 
given  away  to  Friends.  I  should  think  your  mother 
had  one.  If  you  do  not  know  it,  I  will  bring  the 
Drawing  up  with  me  to  London  when  next  I  go  there  : 
or  will  send  it  up  for  your  inspection,  if  you  like. 
But  I  do  not  suppose  you  will  care  for  me  to  do 
that. 

12 


178   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

Here  is  a  much  longer  letter  than  I  thought  for  ; 
I  hope  not  troublesome  to  your  Eyes — from  yours 
always  and  sincerely 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

I  have  been  reading  Comus  and  Lycidas  with 
wonder,  and  a  sort  of  awe.  Tennyson  once  said 
that  Lycidas  was  a  touchstone  of  poetic  Taste. 

LXXTII. 

Woodbridge:  March  28,  [1880]. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

No — the  Flowers  were  not  from  me — I  have 
nothing  full-blown  to  show  except  a  few  Polyanthuses, 
and  a  few  Pansies.  These  Pansies  never  throve  with 
me  till  last  year :  after  a  Cartload  or  two  of  Clay  laid 
on  my  dry  soil,  I  suppose,  the  year  before.  Inso- 
much that  one  dear  little  Soul  has  positively  held  on 
blowing,  more  or  less  confidently,  all  winter  through; 
when  even  the  Marigold  failed. 

Nov/,  I  meant  to  have  intimated  about  those 
Flowers  in  a  few  French  words  on  a  Postcard — 
purposely  to  prevent  your  answering — unless  your 
rigorous  Justice  could  only  be  satisfied  by  a  Post 
Card  in  return.  But  I  was  not  sure  how  you  might 
like  my  Card ;  so  here  is  a  Letter  instead ;  which  I 
really  do  beg  you,  as  a  favour,  not  to  feel  bound  to 
answer.     A  time  will  come  for  such  a  word. 

By  the  by,  you  can  make  me  one  very  acceptable 
return,  I  hope  with  no  further  trouble  than  addressing 


i88o]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  179 

it  to  me.  That  '  Nineteenth  Century  '  for  February, 
with  a  Paper  on  l  King  John'  (your  Uncle)  in  it.1 
Our  Country  Bookseller  has  been  for  three  weeks 
getting  it  for  me — and  now  says  he  cannot  get  it — 
1  out  of  print.'  I  rather  doubt  that  the  Copy  I  saw 
on  your  Table  was  only  lent  to  you ;  if  so,  take  no 
more  trouble  about  it;  some  one  will  find  me  a 
Copy. 

I  shall  revolve  in  my  own  noble  mind  what  you 
say  about  Jessica  and  her  Jewels  :  as  yet,  I  am 
divided  between  you,  and  that  old  Serpent,  Spedding. 
Perhaps  '  That  is  only  his  Fancy,'  as  he  says  of 
Shylock.  What  a  light,  graceful,  way  of  saying  well- 
considered  Truth  ! 

I  doubt  you  are  serious  in  reminding  me  of  my 
Tumbler  on  the  Floor ;  and,  I  doubt  not,  quite  right 
in  being  so.  This  comes  of  one's  living  so  long 
either  with  no  Company,  or  with  only  free  and  easy. 
But  I  am  always  the  same  toward  you,  whether  my 
Tumbler  in  the  right  place  or  not, 

The  Laird  of  Littlegrange. 

1  'An  Eye-witness  of  John  Kemble,'  by  Sir  Theodore  Martin. 
The  eye-witness  is  Tieck. 


1S0  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

LXXIV. 

WOODBRIDGE,  April  6,  [1880.]1 

My  dear  Lady, 

I  hope  my  letter,  and  the  Magazine  which 
accompanies  it,  will  not  reach  you  at  a  time  when 
you  have  family  troubles  to  think  about.  You  can, 
however,  put  letter  and  Magazine  aside  at  once, 
without  reading  either;  and,  anyhow,  I  wish  once 
more — in  vain,  I  suppose — that  you  would  not  feel 
bound  to  acknowledge  them. 

I  think  this  Atlantic,2  which  I  took  in  so  long  as 
you  were  embarked  on  it,  was  sent  me  by  Mr.  Norton, 
to  whom  I  had  sent  my  Crabbe ;  and  he  had,  I 
suppose,  shown  it  to  Mr.  Woodberry,  the  Critic. 
And  the  Critic  has  done  his  work  well,  on  the  whole, 
I  think :  though  not  quite  up  to  my  mark  of  praise, 
nor  enough  to  create  any  revival  of  Interest  in  the 
Poems.  You  will  see  that  I  have  made  two  or  three 
notes  by  the  way  :  but  you  are  still  less  bound  to  read 
them  than  the  text. 

If  you  be  not  bothered,  I  shall  ask  you  to  return 
me  the  Magazine.     I  have  some  thought  of  taking  it 

1  This  letter  was  written  on  a  Tuesday,  and  April  6  was  a 
Tuesday  in  1880.  Moreover,  in  1880,  at  Easter,  Donne's  house 
was  in  quarantine.  FitzGerald  probably  had  the  advanced  sheets 
of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  May  from  Professor  Norton  as  early 
as  the  beginning  of  April. 

2  The  Atlantic  Monthly  for  May,  1880,  contained  an  article  by 
Mr.  G.  E.  Woodberry  on  Crabbe,  '  A  Neglected  Poet.'  See  letter 
to  Professor  Norton,  May  1,  1880,  in  'Letters,'  ii.  281. 


iSSo]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  181 

in  again,  as  I  like  to  see  what  goes  on  in  the  literary 
way  in  America,  and  I  found  their  critics  often  more 
impartial  in  their  estimation  of  English  Authors  than 
our  own  Papers  are,  as  one  might  guess  would  be 
the  case. 

I  was,  and  am,  reading  your  Records  again,  before 
this  Atlantic  came  to  remind  me  of  you.  I  have 
Bentley's  second  Edition.  I  feel  the  Dullness  of  that 
Dinner  Party  in  Portland  Place *  (I  know  it  was)  when 
Mrs.  Frere  sang.  She  was  somewhile  past  her  prime 
then  (1831),  but  could  sing  the  Classical  Song,  or 
Ballad,  till  much  later  in  Life.  Pasta  too,  whom  you 
then  saw  and  heard !  I  still  love  the  pillars  of  the 
old  Hay  market  Opera  House,  where  I  used  to  see 
placarded  Medea  in  Corinto.2 

And  I  am  still  yours  sincerely 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

You  are  better  off  in  London  this  black  weather. 

P.S.  Since  my  letter  was  written,  I  receive  the 
promised  one  from  Mowbray :  his  Father  well : 
indeed,  in  better  health  and  Spirits  than  usual :  and 
going  with  Blanche  to  Southwell  on  Wednesday  (to- 
morrow) fortnight. 

His  London  house  almost,  if  not  quite,  out  of 
Quarantine.     But — do  not  go  !  say  I. 

1  No.  39,   where  FitzGerald's  father    and  mother  lived.      See 
'  Records  of  a  Girlhood,'  iii.  28. 

2  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  138. 


i82  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 


LXXV. 

Woodbridge:  April  23,  [18S0.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  was  really  sorry  to  hear  from  you  that  you 
were  about  to  move  again.  I  suppose  the  move  has 
been  made  by  this  time :  as  I  do  not  know  whither, 
I  must  trouble  Coutts,  I  suppose,  to  forward  my 
Letter  to  you ;  and  then  you  will  surely  tell  me  your 
new  Address,  and  also  how  you  find  yourself  in  it. 

I  have  nothing  to  report  of  myself,  except  that  I 
was  for  ten  days  at  Lowestoft  in  company  (though 
not  in  the  house)  with  Edward  Cowell  the  Professor : 
with  whom,  as  in  last  Autumn,  I  read,  and  all  but 
finished,  the  second  part  of  Don  Quixote.  There 
came  Aldis  Wright  to  join  us ;  and  he  quite  agrees 
with  what  you  say  concerning  the  Jewel-robbery  in 
the  Merchant  of  Venice.  He  read  me  the  Play ;  and 
very  well;  thoroughly  understanding  the  text:  with 
clear  articulation,  and  the  moderate  emphasis  proper 
to  room-reading;  with  the  advantage  also  of  never 
having  known  the  Theatre  in  his  youth,  so  that  he 
has  not  picked  up  the  twang  of  any  Actor  of  the  Day. 
Then  he  read  me  King  John,  which  he  has  some 
thoughts  of  editing  next  after  Richard  III.  And  I 
was  reminded  of  you  at  Ipswich  twenty-eight  years 
ago;  and  of  your  Father — his  look  up  at  Angiers' 
Walls  as  he  went  out  in  Act  ii.  I  wonder  that  Mrs. 
Siddons  should  have  told  Johnson  that  she  preferred 


iS8o]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  183 

Constance  to  any  of  Shakespeare's  Characters :  per- 
haps I  misremember ;  she  may  have  said  Queen 
Catharine.1  I  must  not  forget  to  thank  you  for  the 
N  ineteenth  Century  from  Hatchard's ;  Tieck's  Article 
very  interesting  to  me,  and  I  should  suppose  just  in 
its  criticism  as  to  what  John  Kemble  then  was.  I 
have  a  little  print  of  him  about  the  time :  in  QEdipus 
— (whose  Play,  I  wonder,  on  such  a  dangerous 
subject  ?)  from  a  Drawing  by  that  very  clever  Artist 
De  Wilde:  who  never  missed  Likeness,  Character, 
and  Life,  even  when  reduced  to  i6mo  Engraving.2 

What  you  say  of  Tennyson's  Eyes  reminded  me 
that  he  complained  of  the  Dots  in  Persian  type 
flickering  before  them :  insomuch  that  he  gave  up 
studying  it.  This  was  some  thirty  years  ago.  Talking 
on  the  subject  one  day  to  his  Brother  Frederick,  he 
— (Frederick) — said  he  thought  possible  that  a  sense 
of  the  Sublime  was  connected  with  Blindness  :  as 
in  Homer,  Milton,  and  Handel :  and  somewhat  with 
old  Wordsworth  perhaps;  though  his  Eyes  were,  I 
think,  rather  weak  than  consuming  with  any  inward 
Fire. 

I  heard  from  Mr.  Norton  that  Lowell  had  returned 
to  Madrid  in  order  to  bring  his  Wife  to  London — if 

1  It  was  Queen  Catharine.  When  Mrs.  Siddons  called  upon 
Johnson  in  1783,  he  "  particularly  asked  her  which  of  Shakespeare's 
characters  she  was  most  pleased  with.  Upon  her  answering  that 
she  thought  the  character  of  Queen  Catharine,  in  Henry  the  Eighth, 
the  most  natural : — '  I  think  so  too,  Madam,  (said  he  ;)  and  when- 
ever you  perform  it,  I  will  once  more  hobble  out  to  the  theatre 
myself.'  " — Boswell's  '  Life  of  Johnson,'  (ed.  Birkbeck  Hill),  iv.  242. 

2  See  letters  of  February  and  December,  1881. 


i84  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

possible.  She  seems  very  far  from  being  recovered ; 
and  (Norton  thinks)  would  not  have  recovered  in 
Spain :  so  Lowell  will  have  one  consolation  for 
leaving  the  land  of  Cervantes  and  Calderon  to  come 
among  the  English,  whom  I  believe  he  likes  little 
better  than  Hawthorne  liked  them. 

I  believe  that  yesterday  was  the  first  of  my  hearing 
the  Nightingale ;  certainly  of  hearing  my  Nightingale 
in  the  trees  which  I  planted,  'hauts  comme  ga,'  as 
Madame  de  Sevigne  says.  I  am  positively  about  to 
read  her  again,  'tout  Madame  de  Se'vigne','  as  Ste. 
Beuve  said.1  What  better  now  Spring  is  come?2 
She  would  be  enjoying  her  Rochers  just  now.  And 
I  think  this  is  a  dull  letter  of  mine  ;  but  I  am  always 
sincerely  yours 

E.  de  Petitgrange. 


LXXVI. 

Woodbridge  :  May  25/80. 

My  dear  Lady, 

Another  full  Moon  reminds  [me]  of  my 
monthly  call  upon  you  by  Letter — a  call  to  be  regul- 
arly returned,  I  know,  according  to  your  Etiquette. 
As  so  it  must  be,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  that 
you  are  better  than  when  you  last  wrote,  and  that 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  244,  249. 

2  On  June  30,  1880,  he  wrote  to  me,  '  Half  her  Beauty  is  the 
liquid  melodiousness  of  her  language — all  unpremeditated  as  a 
Blackbird's.' 


JNIV.ERSITY 


i88o]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE 


some,  if  not  all,  of  the  'trouble'  you  spoke  of  has 
passed  away.  I  have  not  heard  of  Donne  since  that 
last  letter  of  yours :  but  a  Post  Card  from  Mowbray, 
who  was  out  holyday-making  in  Norfolk,  tells  me 
that  he  will  write  as  soon  as  he  has  returned  to 
London,  which,  I  think,  must  be  about  this  very 
time. 

I  shall  be  sorry  if  you  do  not  get  your  annual  dose 
of  Mountain  Air ;  why  can  you  not  ?  postponing 
your  visit  to  Hampshire  till  Autumn — a  season  when 
I  think  those  who  want  company  and  comfort  are 
most  glad  of  it.  But  you  are  determined,  I  think,  to 
do  as  you  are  asked :  yes,  even  the  more  so  if  you 
do  not  wish  it.  And,  moreover,  you  know  much 
more  of  what  is  fittest  to  do  than  I. 

A  list  of  Trench's  works  in  the  Academy  made  me 
think  of  sending  him  my  Crabbe ;  which  I  did :  and 
had  a  very  kind  answer  from  him,  together  with  a 
Copy  of  a  second  Edition  of  his  Calderon  Essay  and 
Translation.  He  had  not  read  any  Crabbe  since  he 
was  a  Lad :  what  he  may  think  of  him  now  I  know 
not :  for  I  bid  him  simply  acknowledge  the  receipt 
of  my  Volume,  as  I  did  of  his.  I  think  much  the 
best  way,  unless  advice  is  wanted  on  either  side 
before  publication. 

If  you  write — which  you  will,  unless — nay,  whether 
troubled  or  not,  I  think — I  should  like  to  hear  if 
you  have  heard  anything  of  Mr.  Lowell  in  London. 
1  do  not  write  to  him  for  fear  of  bothering  him  :  but 
I  wish  to  know  that  his  Wife  is  recovered.     I  have 


1 86  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

been  thinking  for  some  days  of  writing  a  Note  to 
Carlyle's  Niece,  enclosing  her  a  Post  Card  to  be 
returned  to  me  with  just  a  word  about  him  and 
herself.  A  Card  only:  for  I  do  not  know  how 
occupied  she  may  be  with  her  own  family  cares  by 
this  time. 

I  have  re-read  your  Records,  in  which  I  do  not 
know  that  I  find  any  too  much,  as  I  had  thought 
there  was  of  some  early  Letters.  Which  I  believe 
I  told  you  while  the  Book  was  in  progress.1  It  is, 
I  sincerely  say,  a  capital  Book,  and,  as  I  have  now 
read  it  twice  over  with  pleasure,  and  I  will  say, 
with  Admiration — if  but  for  its  Sincerity  (I  think 
you  will  not  mind  my  saying  that  much) — I  shall 
probably  read  it  over  again,  if  I  live  two  years  more. 
I  am  now  embarked  on  my  blessed  Sevigne,  who, 
with  Crabbe,  and  John  Wesley,  seem  to  be  my  great 
hobbies;  or  such  as  I  do  not  tire  of  riding,  though 
my  friends  may  weary  of  hearing  me  talk  about 
them. 

By  the  by,  to-morrow  is,  I  think,  Derby  Day; 
which  I  remember  chiefly  for  its  marking  the  time 
when  Hampton  Court  Chestnuts  were  usually  in  full 
flower.  You  may  guess  that  we  in  the  Country  here 
have  been  gaping  for  rain  to  bring  on  our  Crops, 
and  Flowers;  very  tantalising  have  been  many  pro- 
mising Clouds,  which  just  dropped  a  few  drops  by 
way  of  Compliment,  and  then  passed  on.  But  last 
night,  when  Dombey  was  being  read  to  me  we  heard 

1  See  letter  of  May  5,  1877. 


i88o]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  187 

a  good  splash  of  rain,  and  Dombey  was  shut  up  that 
we  might  hear,  and  see,  and  feel  it.1  I  never  could 
make  out  who  wrote  two  lines  which  I  never  could 
forget,  wherever  I  found  them  : — 

'  Abroad,  the  rushing  Tempest  overwhelms 
Nature  pitch  dark,  and  rides  the  thundering  elms.' 

Very  like  Glorious  John  Dryden ;  but  many  others 
of  his  time  wrote  such  lines,  as  no  one  does  now — 
not  even  Messrs.  Swinburne  and  Browning. 

And  I  am  always  your  old  Friend,  with  the  new 
name  of 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 


LXXVII. 

Woodbridge  :  June  23,  [1880.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

You  smile  at  my  '  Lunacies '  as  you  call 
my  writing  periods ;  I  take  the  Moon  as  a  signal  not 
to  tax  you  too  often  for  your  inevitable  answer.  I 
have  now  let  her  pass  her  Full :  and  June  is  drawing 
short:  and  you  were  to  be  but  for  June  at  Leam- 
ington :    so — I  must  have  your  answer,  to  tell  me 

1  In  a  letter  to  me  of  the  same  date  he  wrote  :  '  Last  night  when 
Miss  Tox  was  just  coming,  like  a  good  Soul,  to  ask  about  the 
ruined  Dombey,  we  heard  a  Splash  of  Rain,  and  I  had  the  Book 
shut  up,  and  sat  listening  to  the  Shower  by  myself — till  it  blew 
over,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  and  no  more  of  the  sort  all  night.  But  we 
are  thankful  for  that  small  mercy. 

'  I  am  reading  through  my  S^vigne"  again — welcome  as  the  flowers 
of  May.' 


188  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1880 

about  your  own  health  (which  was  not  so  good  when 
last  you  wrote)  and  that  of  your  Family ;  and  when, 
and  where,  you  go  from  Leamington.  I  shall  be 
sorry  if  you  cannot  go  to  Switzerland. 

I  have  been  as  far  as — Norfolk — on  a  week's  visit 
(the  only  visit  of  the  sort  I  now  make)  to  George 
Crabbe,  my  Poet's  Grandson,  and  his  two  Grand- 
daughters. It  was  a  very  pleasant  visit  indeed  ;  the 
people  all  so  sensible,  and  friendly,  talking  of  old 
days ;  the  Country  flat  indeed,  but  green,  well- 
wooded,  and  well-cultivated :  the  weather  well 
enough.1 

I  carried  there  two  volumes  of  my  SeVigne  :  and 
even  talked  of  going  over  to  Brittany,  only  to  see 
her  Rochers,  as  once  I  went  to  Edinburgh  only  to 
see  Abbotsford.  But  (beside  that  I  probably  should 
not  have  gone  further  than  talking  in  any  case)  a 
French  Guide  Book  informed  me  that  the  present 
Proprietor  of  the  place  will  not  let  it  be  shown  to 
Strangers  who  pester  him  for  a  view  of  it,  on  the 
strength  of  those  '  paperasses,'  as  he  calls  her  Letters.2 
So  this  is  rather  a  comfort  to  me.     Had  I  gone,  I 

1  On  June  9,  1879,  FitzGerald  wrote  to  me :  "I  was  from  Tuesday 
to  Saturday  last  in  Norfolk  with  my  old  Bredfield  Party — George, 
not  very  well :  and,  as  he  has  not  written  to  tell  me  he  is  better,  I 
am  rather  anxious.  You  should  know  him;  and  his  Country: 
which  is  still  the  old  Country  which  we  have  lost  here  ;  small 
enclosures,  with  hedgeway  timber  :  green  gipsey  drift-ways :  and 
Crome  Cottage  and  Farmhouse  of  that  beautiful  yellow  '  Clay- 
lump'  with  red  pantile  roof'd — not  the  d d  Brick  and  Slate  of 

these  parts." 

2  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  290. 


i88o]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  189 

should  also  have  visited  my  dear  old  Frederick 
Tennyson  at  Jersey.  But  now  I  think  we  shall  never 
see  one  another  again. 

Spedding  keeps  on  writing  Shakespeare  Notes  in 
answer  to  sundry  Theories  broached  by  others  :  he 
takes  off  copies  of  his  MS.  by  some  process  he  has 
learned;  and,  as  I  always  insist  on  some  Copy  of 
all  he  writes,  he  has  sent  me  these,  which  I  read 
by  instalments,  as  Eyesight  permits.  I  believe  I  am 
not  a  fair  Judge  between  him  and  his  adversaries  ; 
first,  because  I  have  but  little,  if  any,  faculty  of 
critical  Analysis;  and  secondly,  because  I  am  pre- 
judiced with  the  notion  that  old  Jem  is  Shakespeare's 
Prophet,  and  must  be  right.  But,  whether  right  or 
wrong,  the  way  in  which  he  conducts,  and  pleads, 
his  Case  is  always  Music  to  me.  So  it  was  even 
with  Bacon,  with  whom  I  could  not  be  reconciled : 
I  could  not  like  Dr.  Fell :  much  more  so  with  '  the 
Divine  Williams,'  who  is  a  Doctor  that  I  do  like. 

It  has  turned  so  dark  here  in  the  last  two  days 
that  I  scarce  see  to  write  at  my  desk  by  a  window 
which  has  a  hood  over  it,  meant  to  exclude — the 
Sun  !  I  have  encreased  my  Family  by  two  broods 
of  Ducks,  who  compete  for  the  possession  of  a  Pond 
about  four  feet  in  diameter :  and  but  an  hour  ago 
I  saw  my  old  Seneschal  escorting  home  a  stray  lot 
of  Chickens.  My  two  elder  Nieces  are  with  me  at 
present,  but  I  do  not  think  will  be  long  here,  if  a 
Sister  comes  to  them  from  Italy. 

Pray  let  me  hear  how  you  are.     I  am  pretty  well 


190  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

myself: — though  not  quite  up  to  the  mark  of  my 
dear  SeVigne,  who  writes  from  her  Rochers  when 
close  on  sixty — '  Pour  moi,  je  suis  d'une  si  parfaite 
sante,  que  je  ne  comprends  point  ce  que  Dieu  veut 
faire  de  moi.' J 

But  yours  always  and  a  Day, 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 


LXXVIII. 

[WOODBRIDGE,  Jtlly  24,  l88o.] 

1 II  sera  le  mois  de  Juillet  tant  qu'il  plaira  a  Dieu  ' 
writes  my  friend  SeVigne'— only  a  week  more  of  it 
now,  however.  I  should  have  written  to  my  friend 
Mrs.  Kemble  before  this— in  defiance  of  the  Moon — 
had  I  not  been  waiting  for  her  Address  from  Mowbray 
Donne,  to  whom  I  wrote  more  than  a  fortnight  ago. 
I  hope  no  ill-health  in  himself,  or  his  Family,  keeps 
him  from  answering  my  Letter,  if  it  ever  reached  him. 
But  I  will  wait  no  longer  for  his  reply :  for  I  want 
to  know  concerning  you  and  your  health :  and  so  I 
must  trouble  Coutts  to  fill  up  the  Address  which  you 
will  not  instruct  me  in. 

Here  (Woodbridge)  have  I  been  since  last  I  wrote 
— some  Irish  Cousins  coming  down  as  soon  as 
English  Nieces  had  left.  Only  that  in  the  week's 
interval  I  went  to  our  neighbouring  Aldeburgh  on  the 
Sea — where   I   first    saw,   and    felt,   the    Sea    some 

1  See  letter  of  Madame  de  Se'vigne"  to  Madame  de  Grignan, 
June  15,  1689. 


iSSo]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  191 

sixty-five  years  ago ;  a  dreary  place  enough  in  spite 
of  some  Cockney  improvements  :  my  old  Crabbe's 
Borough,  as  you  may  remember.  I  think  one  goes 
back  to  the  old  haunts  as  one  grows  old :  as  the 
Chancellor  l'Hopital  said  when  he  returned  to  his 
native  Bourdeaux,  I  think:  'Me  voici,  Messieurs,' 
returned  to  die,  as  the  Hare  does,  in  her  ancient 
'gite.'1  I  shall  soon  be  going  to  Lowestoft,  where 
one  of  my  Nieces,  who  is  married  to  an  Italian,  and 
whom  I  have  not  seen  for  many  years,  is  come,  with 
her  Boy,  to  stay  with  her  Sisters. 

Whither  are  you  going  after  you  leave  Hampshire  ? 
You  spoke  in  your  last  letter  of  Scarboro' :  but  I  still 
think  you  will  get  over  to  Switzerland.  One  of  my 
old  Friends — and  Flames — Mary  Lynn  (pretty  name) 
who  is  of  our  age,  and  played  with  me  when  we  both 
were  Children — at  that  very  same  Aldeburgh — is  gone 
over  to  those  Mountains  which  you  are  so  fond  of: 
having  the  same  passion  for  them  as  you  have.  I 
had  asked  her  to  meet  me  at  that  Aldeburgh — 
'  Aldbro' ' — that  we  might  ramble  together  along  that 
beach  where  once  we  played ;  but  she  was  gone. 

If  you  should  come  to  Lowestoft  instead  of 
Scarbro',  we,  if  you  please,  will  ramble  together  too. 
But  I  do  not  recommend  the  place — very  ugly — on  a 
dirty  Dutch  Sea — and  I  do  not  suppose  you  would 

1  In  one  of  FitzGerald's  Common  Place  Books  he  gives  the  story 
thus  :  ' '  When  Chancellor  Cheverny  went  home  in  his  Old  Age  and 
for  the  last  time,  '  Messieurs '  (dit-il  aux  Gentilshommes  du  Canton 
accourus  pour  le  saluer),  'Je  ressemble  au  bon  Lievre  qui  vient 
mourir  au  Gite.' " 


192  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

care  for  any  of  my  People ;  unless  it  were  my  little 
Niece  Annie,  who  is  a  delightful  Creature. 

I  see  by  the  Athenaeum  that  Tom  Taylor  is  dead  l 
— the  '  cleverest  Man  in  London '  Tennyson  called 
him  forty  years  ago.  Professor  Goodwin,  of  the 
Boston  Cambridge,  is  in  England,  and  made  a  very 
kind  proposal  to  give  me  a  look  on  his  travels.  But 
I  could  not  let  him  come  out  of  his  way  (as  it  would 
have  been)  for  any  such  a  purpose.2  He  wrote  that 
Mrs.  Lowell  was  in  better  health :  residing  at 
Southampton,  which  you  knew  well  near  fifty  years 
ago,  as  your  Book  tells.  Mr.  Lowell  does  not  write 
to  me  now ;  nor  is  there  reason  that  he  should. 

Please  to  make  my  remembrances  to  Mr.  Sartoris, 

1  Tom  Taylor  died  July  12,  1880. 

2  On  July  16  FitzGerald  wrote  to  me :  '  Not  being  assured  that 
you  were  back  from  Revision,  I  wrote  yesterday  to  Cowell  asking 
him — and  you,  when  returned — to  call  on  Professor  Goodwin,  of 
American  Cambridge,  who  goes  to-morrow  to  your  Cambridge — to 
see — if  not  to  stay  with — Mr.  Jebb.  Mr.  Goodwin  proposed  to  give 
me  a  look  here  before  he  went  to  Cambridge  :  but  I  told  him  I 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  his  coming  all  this  way  for  such  a 
purpose.  I  think  you  can  witness  that  I  do  not  wish  even  old 
English  Friends  to  take  me  except  on  their  way  elsewhere  :  and  for 
an  American  Gentleman  !  It  is  not  affectation  to  say  that  any  such 
proposal  worried  me.  So  what  must  I  do  but  ask  him  to  be  sure  to 
see  Messrs.  Wright  and  Cowell  when  he  got  to  Cambridge :  and 
spend  part  of  one  of  his  days  there  in  going  to  Bury,  and  (even  if  he 
cared  not  for  the  Abbey  with  its  Abbot  Samson  and  Jocelyn)  to  sit 
with  a  Bottle  of  light  wine  at  the  Angel  window,  face  to  face  with 
that  lovely  Abbey  gate.  Perhaps  Cowell,  I  said,  might  go  over 
with  him — knowing  and  loving  Gothic — that  was  a  liberty  for  me  to 
take  with  Cowell,  but  he  need  not  go — I  did  not  hint  at  you.  I 
suppose  I  muddled  it  all.  But  do  show  the  American  Gentleman 
some  civilities,  to  make  amends  for  the  disrespect  which  you  and 
Cowell  told  me  of  in  April. ' 


i88o]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  193 

who  scarcely  remembers  me,  but  whose  London 
House  was  very  politely  opened  to  me  so  many  years 
ago.  Anyhow,  pray  let  me  hear  of  yourself:  and 
believe  me  always  yours  sincerely 

The  Laird  of  Littlegrange. 


LXXIX. 

Woodbridge  :  Friday,  [30  July,  1880.] 

My  dear  Lady, 

I  send  you  Mowbray's  reply  to  my  letter  of 
nearly  three  weeks  ago.  No  good  news  of  his  Father 
— still  less  of  our  Army  (news  to  me  told  to-day) 
altogether  a  sorry  budget  to  greet  you  on  your  return 
to  London.  But  the  public  news  you  knew  already, 
I  doubt  not :  and  I  thought  as  well  to  tell  you  of  our 
Donne  at  once. 

I  suppose  one  should  hardly  talk  of  anything  except 
this  Indian  Calamity : 1  but  I  am  selfish  enough  to 
ignore,  as  much  as  I  can,  such  Evils  as  I  cannot  help. 

I  think  that  Tennyson  in  calling  Tom  Taylor  the 
*  cleverest  man,'  etc.,  meant  pretty  much  as  you  do. 
I  believe  he  said  it  in  reply  to  something  I  may  have 
said  that  was  less  laudatory.  At  one  time  Tennyson 
almost  lived  with  him  and  the  Wigans  whom  I  did 
not  know.  Taylor  always  seemed  to  me  as  '  clever  ' 
as  any  one :  was  always  very  civil  to  me  :  but  one  of 

1  The  defeat  of  General  Burrows  by  Ayoub  Khan,  announced  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  July  28,  1880.  On  July  29  further  telegrams 
reported  that  General  Burrows  and  other  officers  had  arrived  at 
Candahar  after  the  defeat. 

13 


194  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

those  toward  whom  I  felt  no  attraction.  He  was  too 
clever,  I  think.  As  to  Art,  he  knew  nothing  of  it 
then,  nor  (as  he  admits)  up  to  1852  or  thereabout, 
when  he  published  his  very  good  Memoir  of  Haydon. 
I  think  he  was  too  '  clever '  for  Art  also. 

Why  will  you  write  of  '  If  you  bid  me  come  to 
Lowestoft  in  October,'  etc.,  which,  you  must  know, 
is  just  what  I  should  not  ask  you  to  do :  knowing 
that,  after  what  you  say,  you  would  come,  if  asked, 
were — (a  Bull  begins  here) — were  it  ever  so  unlikely 
for  you.  I  am  going  thither  next  week,  to  hear  much 
(I  dare  say)  of  a  Brother  in  Ireland  who  may  be 
called  to  India ;  and  am 

Ever  yours  sincerely, 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

Why  won't  you  write  to  me  from  Switzerland  to 
say  where  a  Letter  may  find  you  ?  If  not,  the  Harvest 
Moon  will  pass ! 

LXXX. 

Ivy  House,  Lowestoft  : 

Sepr.  20, l  [1880.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Here  is  a  second  Full  Moon  since  last  I 
wrote — (Harvest  Moon,  I  think).  I  knew  not  where 
to  direct  to  you  before,  and,  as  you  remain  determined 
not  to  apprize  me  yourself,  so  I  have  refused  to  send 
through  Coutts.     You  do  not  lose  much. 

1  The  date  should  be  September  19,  which  was  a  Sunday  in  1880. 
Full  moon  was  on  September  18. 


1880]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  195 

Here  have  been  for  nearly  two  months  Five  English 
Nieces  clustered  round  a  Sister  who  married  an  Italian, 
and  has  not  been  in  England  these  dozen  years.  She 
has  brought  her  Boy  of  six,  who  seems  to  us  wonder- 
fully clever  as  compared  to  English  Children  of  his 
Age,  but  who,  she  tells  us,  is  counted  rather  behind 
his  Fellows  in  Italy.  Our  meeting  has  been  what  is 
called  a  '  Success ' — which  will  not  be  repeated,  I 
think.  She  will  go  back  to  her  adopted  Country  in 
about  a  month,  I  suppose.  Do  you  know  of  any  one 
likely  to  be  going  that  way  about  that  time  ? 

Some  days  ago,  when  I  was  sitting  on  the  Pier, 
rather  sad  at  the  Departure  [of]  a  little  Niece — an 
abridgment  of  all  that  is  pleasant — and  good — in 
Woman — Charles  Merivale  accosted  me — he  and  his 
good,  unaffected,  sensible,  wife,  and  Daughter  to 
match.  He  was  looking  well,  and  we  have  since  had 
a  daily  stroll  together.  We  talked  of  you,  for  he  said 
(among  the  first  things  he  did  say)  that  he  had  been 
reading  your  Records  again :  so  I  need  not  tell  you 
his  opinion  of  them.  He  saw  your  Uncle  in  Cato 
when  he  was  about  four  years  old ;  and  believes  that 
he  (J.  P.  K.)  had  a  bit  of  red  waistcoat  looking  out  of 
his  toga,  by  way  of  Blood.  I  tell  him  he  should  call 
on  you  and  clear  up  that,  and  talk  on  many  other 
points. 

Mowbray  Donne  wrote  me  from  Wales  a  month 
ago  that  his  Father  was  going  on  pretty  well.  I 
asked  for  further  from  Mowbray  when  he  should  have 
returned  from  Wales :    but  he  has  not  yet  written. 


196  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

Merivale,  who  is  one  of  Donne's  greatest  Friends, 
has  not  heard  of  him  more  lately  than  I. 

Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  I  want  to  hear  of  you 
from  yourself:  and  I  have  told  you  why  it  is  that  I 
have  not  asked  you  before.  I  fancy  that  you  will 
not  be  back  in  England  when  this  Letter  reaches 
Westminster:  but  I  fancy  that  it  will  not  be  long 
before  you  find  it  waiting  on  your  table  for  you. 

And  now  I  am  going  to  look  for  the  Dean,  who,  I 
hope,  has  been  at  Church  this  morning :  and  though 
I  have  not  done  that,  I  am  not  the  less  sincerely  yours 

E.  F.G. 


LXXXI. 

WOODBRIDGE  :    Oct*.  20,   l88o. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  was  to  have  gone  to  London  on  Monday 
with  my  Italian  Niece  on  her  way  homeward.  But 
she  feared  saying  '  Farewell '  and  desired  me  to  let 
her  set  off  alone,  to  avoid  doing  so. 

Thus  I  delay  my  visit  to  you  till  November — 
perhaps  toward  the  middle  of  it :  when  I  hope  to 
find  you,  with  your  blue  and  crimson  Cushions  l  in 
Queen  Anne's  Mansions,  as  a  year  ago.  Mrs. 
Edwards  is  always  in  town :  not  at  all  forgetful  of  her 

1  In  her  '  Further  Records,'  i.  295,  Mrs.  Kemble  says,  '  Russia 
leather,  you  know,  is  almost  an  element  of  the  atmosphere  of  my 
rooms,  as  all  the  shades  of  violet  and  purple  are  of  their  colouring, 
so  that  my  familiar  friends  associate  the  two  with  their  notions  of 
my  habitat.' 


i88o]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  197 

husband ;  and  there  will  be  our  Donne  also  of  whom 
I  hear  nothing,  and  so  conclude  there  is  nothing  to 
be  told,  and  with  him  my  Visits  will  be  summed  up. 

Now,  lose  not  a  Day  in  providing  yourself  with 
Charles  Tennyson  Turner's  Sonnets,  published  by 
Kegan  Paul.  There  is  a  Book  for  you  to  keep  on 
your  table,  at  your  elbow.  Very  many  of  the  Sonnets 
I  do  not  care  for :  mostly  because  of  the  Subject : 
but  there  is  pretty  sure  to  be  some  beautiful  line  or 
expression  in  all ;  and  all  pure,  tender,  noble,  and — 
original.  Old  Spedding  supplies  a  beautiful  Prose 
Overture  to  this  delightful  Volume  :  never  was  Critic 
more  one  with  his  Subject — or,  Object,  is  it  ?  Frederick 
Tennyson,  my  old  friend,  ought  to  have  done  some- 
thing to  live  along  with  his  Brothers  :  all  who  will 
live,  I  believe,  of  their  Generation  :  and  he  perhaps 
would,  if  he  could,  have  confined  himself  to  limits 
not  quite  so  narrow  as  the  Sonnet.  But  he  is  a  Poet, 
and  cannot  be  harnessed. 

I  have  still  a  few  flowers  surviving  in  my  Garden  ; 
and  I  certainly  never  remember  the  foliage  of  trees 
so  little  changed  in  October's  third  week.  A  little 
flight  of  Snow  however :  whose  first  flight  used  to 
quicken  my  old  Crabbe's  fancy :  Sir  Eustace  Grey 
written  under  such  circumstances.1 

And  I  am  always  yours 

LlTTLEGRANGE 

(not  '  Markethill '  as  you  persist  in  addressing  me.) 
1  See  '  Life  of  Crabbe,'  p.  262. 


198   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

LXXXII. 

WOODBRIDGE,  Novr.   17/80. 

My  dear  Lady, 

Here  is  the  Moon  very  near  her  Full :  so  I 
send  you  a  Letter.  I  have  it  in  my  head  you  are  not 
in  London :  and  may  not  be  when  I  go  up  there  for 
a  few  days  next  week — for  this  reason  I  think  so  : 
viz.,  that  you  have  not  acknowledged  a  Copy  of 
Charles  Tennyson's  Sonnets,  which  I  desired  Kegan 
Paul  to  send  you,  as  from  me — with  my  illustrious 
Initials  on  the  Fly  Leaf :  and,  he  or  one  of  his  men, 
wrote  that  so  it  should  be,  or  had  been  done.  It 
may  nevertheless  not  have  been :  or,  if  in  part  done, 
the  illustrious  Initials  forgotten.  But  I  rather  think 
the  Book  was  sent :  and  that  you  would  have  guessed 
at  the  Sender,  Initials  or  not.  And  as  I  know  you 
are  even  over-scrupulous  in  acknowledging  any  such 
things,  I  gather  that  the  Book  came  when  you  had 
left  London — for  Leamington,  very  likely  :  and  that 
there  you  are  now.  The  Book,  and  your  Acknow- 
ledgment of  it,  will  very  well  wait :  but  I  wish  to  hear 
about  yourself — as  also  about  yours — if  you  should 
be  among  them.  I  talk  of  '  next  week,'  because  one 
of  my  few  Visitors,  Archdeacon  Groome,  is  coming 
the  week  after  that,  I  believe,  for  a  day  or  two  to  my 
house  :  and,  as  he  has  not  been  here  for  two  years,  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  out  of  the  way. 

A  Letter  about   a   fortnight   ago    from    Mowbray 


i88o]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  199 

Donne  told  me  that  his  Father  was  fairly  well :  and  a 
Post  Card  from  Mowbray  two  days  ago  informed 
[me]  that  Valentia  was  to  be  in  London  this  present 
week.  But  I  have  wanted  to  be  here  at  home  all  this 
time :  I  would  rather  see  Donne  when  he  is  alone  : 
and  I  would  rather  go  to  London  when  there  is  more 
likelihood  of  seeing  you  there  than  now  seems  to  me. 
Of  course  you  will  not  in  the  slightest  way  hasten 
your  return  to  London  (if  now  away  from  it)  for  my 
poor  little  Visits  :  but  pray  let  me  hear  from  you,  and 
believe  me  always  the  same 

E.  F.G. 


LXXXIII. 

Woodbridge:  Dec.   6,  [1880.] 
My  dear  Lady, 

I  was  surprised  to  see  a  Letter  in  your  MS. 
which  could  not  be  in  answer  to  any  of  mine.  But 
the  Photos  account  for  it.  Thank  you  :  I  keep  that 
which  I  like  best,  and  herewith  return  the  other. 

Why  will  you  take  into  your  head  that  I  could 
suppose  you  wanting  in  Hospitality,  or  any  other  sort 
of  Generosity  !  That,  at  least,  is  not  a  Kemble  fail- 
ing. Why,  I  believe  you  would  give  me — and  a 
dozen  others — ^£1000  if  you  fancied  one  wanted  it — 
even  without  being  asked.  The  Law  of  Mede  and 
Persian  is  that  you  will  take  up — a  perverse  notion — 
now  and  then.     There  !     It's  out. 

As   to  the  Tea — 'pure  and  simple' — with  Bread 


2oo  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 

and  Butter — it  is  the  only  meal  I  do  care  to  join  in  : — 
and  this  is  why  I  did  not  see  Mowbray  Donne,  who 
has  not  his  Dinner  till  an  hour  and  a  half  after  my  last 
meal  is  done. 

I  should  very  gladly  have  '  crushed  a  Cup  of  Tea ' 
with  you  that  last  Evening,  coming  prepared  so  to  do. 
But  you  had  Friends  coming ;  and  so  (as  Mrs. 
Edwards  was  in  the  same  plight)  I  went  to  the  Pit  of 
my  dear  old  Haymarket  Opera : 1  remembering  the 
very  corner  of  the  Stage  where  Pasta  stood  when 
Jason's  People  came  to  tell  her  of  his  new  Marriage  ; 
and  (with  one  hand  in  her  Girdle — a  movement  (Mrs. 
Frere  said)  borrowed  from  Grassini)  she  interrupted 
them  with  her  "  Cessate — intesi ! " — also  when  Rubini, 
feathered  hat  in  hand,  began  that  "  Ah  te,  oh  Cara  " 
— and  Taglioni  hovered  over  the  Stage.  There  was 
the  old  Omnibus  Box  too  where  D'Orsay  flourished  in 
ample  white  Waistcoat  and  Wristbands :  and  Lady 
Blessington's  :  and  Lady  Jersey's  on  the  Pit  tier :  and 
my  own  Mother's,  among  the  lesser  Stars,  on  the 
third.  In  place  of  all  which  I  dimly  saw  a  small 
Company  of  less  distinction  in  all  respects;  and 
heard  an  Opera  (Carmen)  on  the  Wagner  model  : 
very  beautiful  Accompaniments  to  no  Melody :  and 
all  very  badly  sung  except  by  Trebelli,  who,  excellent. 
I  ran  out  in  the  middle  to  the  dear  Little  Haymarket 
opposite — where  Vestris  and  Liston  once  were  :  and 
found  the  Theatre  itself  spoilt  by  being  cut  up  into 
compartments  which  marred  the  beautiful  Horse-shoe 
1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  295. 


1880]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  201 

shape,  once  set  off  by  the  flowing  pattern  of  Gold 
which  used  to  run  round  the  house. 

Enough  of  these  Old  Man's  fancies — But — Right 
for  all  that ! 

I  would  not  send  you  Spedding's  fine  Article *  till 
you  had  returned  from  your  Visit,  and  also  had  re- 
ceived Mrs.  Leigh  at  Queen  Anne's.  You  can  send 
it  back  to  me  quite  at  your  leisure,  without  thinking 
it  necessary  to  write  about  it. 

It  is  so  mild  here  that  the  Thrush  sings  a  little,  and 
my  Anemones  seem  preparing  to  put  forth  a  blossom 
as  well  as  a  leaf.  Yesterday  I  was  sitting  on  a  stile 
by  our  River  side. 

You  will  doubtless  see  Tennyson's  new  Volume,2 
which  is  to  my  thinking  far  preferable  to  his  later 
things,  though  far  inferior  to  those  of  near  forty  years 
ago :  and  so,  I  think,  scarce  wanted.  There  is  a  bit 
of  Translation  from  an  old  War  Song  which  shows 
what  a  Poet  can  do  when  he  condescends  to  such 
work  :  and  I  have  always  said  that  'tis  for  the  old 
Poets  to  do  some  such  service  for  their  Predecessors. 

I  hope  this  long  letter  is  tolerably  legible  :  and  I 
am  in  very  truth 

Sincerely  yours 

The  Laird  of  Littlegrange. 

1  On  '  The  Story  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice '  in  the  Cornhill 
Magazine  for  March  1880. 

2  '  Ballads  and  other  Poems,'  1880. 


K  OF   THE     ^V 

UNIVEBSIT-S 


'  / 


202  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1880 


LXXXIV. 

Woodbridge,  Christmas  Day,  [1880.] 

My  dear  Lady  : 

You  are  at  Leamington  for  this  day,  I 
expect :  but,  as  I  am  not  sure  of  your  address  there, 
I  direct  to  Queen  Anne  as  usual.  This  very  morning 
I  had  a  letter  from  my  dear  George  Crabbe,  telling 
me  that  he  has  met  your  friend  Mr.  H.  Aide  at  Lord 
Walsingham's,  the  Lord  of  G.  C.'s  parish  :  and  that 
Mr.  Aide'  had  asked  him  (G.  C.)  for  his  copy  of  my 
Crabbe.  I  should  have  been  very  glad  to  give  him 
one  had  he,  or  you,  mentioned  to  me  that  he  had  any 
wish  for  the  book  :  I  am  only  somewhat  disappointed 
that  so  few  do  care  to  ask  for  it. 

I  am  here  all  alone  for  my  Christmas  :  which  is  not 
quite  my  own  fault.  A  Nephew,  and  a  young 
London  clerk,  were  to  have  come,  but  prevented; 
even  my  little  Reader  is  gone  to  London  for  his 
Holyday,  and  left  me  with  Eyes  more  out  of  Kelter1 
than  usual  to  entertain  myself  with.  '  These  are  my 
troubles,  Mr.  Wesley,'  as  a  rich  man  complained  to 
him  when  his  Servant  put  too  many  Coals  on  the  fire.2 
On  Friday,  Aldis  Wright  comes  for  two  days,  on  his 
road  to  his  old  home  Beccles  :  and  I  shall  leave  him 


to  himself  with  Books  and  a  Cigar  most  part  of  the 
Day,    and  make   him   read   Shakespeare  of  a  night. 


1  Kelter,  condition,  order.     Forby's  'Vocabulary  of  East  Anglia.' 

2  See  '  Letters, '  ii.  no. 


i88i]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  203 

He  is  now  editing  Henry  V.  for  what  they  call  the 
Clarendon  Press.  He  still  knows  nothing  of  Mr. 
Furness,  who,  he  thinks,  must  be  home  in  America 
long  ago. 

Spedding  writes  me  that  Carlyle  is  now  so  feeble 
as  to  be  carried  up  and  down  stairs.  But  very  '  quiet,' 
which  is  considered  a  bad  sign ;  but,  as  Spedding 
says,  surely  much  better  than  the  other  alternative, 
into  which  one  of  Carlyle's  temperament  might  so 
probably  have  fallen.  Nay,  were  it  not  better  for  all 
of  us?     Mr.  Froude  is  most  constantly  with  him. 

If  this  Letter  is  forwarded  you,  I  know  that  it  will 
not  be  long  before  I  hear  from  you.  And  you  know 
that  I  wish  to  hear  that  all  is  well  with  you,  and 
that  I  am  always  yours 

E.  F.G. 

How  is  Mr.  Sartoris  ?  And  I  see  a  Book  of  hers 
advertised.1 


LXXXV. 

Woodbridge:   Jan.  17,  [1881.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

The  Moon  has  passed  her  F  ull :  but  my 
Eyes  have  become  so  troubled  since  Christmas  that  I 
have  not  written  before.  All  Christmas  I  was  alone  : 
Aldis  Wright  came  to  me  on  New  Year's  Day,  and 
read   to   me,  among    many  other   things,   '  Winter's 

1  'Medusa  and  other  Tales'  (1868),  republished  in  1880  with  a 
preface  by  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Gordon. 


204  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

Tale '  which  we  could  not  take  much  delight  in.  No 
Play  more  undoubtedly,  nor  altogether,  Shakespeare's, 
but  seeming  to  me  written  off  for  some  '  occasion ' 
theatrical,  and  then,  I  suppose  that  Mrs.  Siddons 
made  much  of  the  Statue  Scene. 

I  cannot  write  much,  and  I  fancy  that  you  will  not 
care  to  read  much,  if  you  are  indeed  about  to  leave 
Queen  Anne.  That  is  a  very  vexatious  business. 
You  will  probably  be  less  inclined  to  write  an  answer 
to  my  letter,  than  to  read  it :  but  answer  it  you  will : 
and  you  need  trouble  yourself  to  say  no  more  than 
how  you  are,  and  where,  and  when,  you  are  going,  if 
indeed  you  leave  where  you  are.  And  do  not  cross 
your  letter,  pray  :  and  believe  me  always  your  sincere 
old  friend 

E.  F.G. 


LXXXVI. 


[Feb.,  1 88 1.] 


My  dear  Lady  : 

I  expected  to  send  you  a  piece  of  Print  as 
well  as  a  Letter  this  Full  Moon.1  But  the  Print  is 
not  come  from  the  Printer's  :  and  perhaps  that  is 
as  well :  for  now  you  can  thank  me  for  it  beforehand 
when  you  reply  (as  I  know  you  will)  to  this  Letter — 
and  no  more  needs  to  be  said.  For  I  do  [not]  need 
your  Advice  as  to  Publication  in  this  case ;  no  such 
Design  is  in  my  head :  on  the  contrary,  not  even  a 

1  Full  moon  February  14th. 


i88i]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  205 

Friend  will  know  of  it  except  yourself,  Mr.  Norton, 
and  Aldis  Wright :  the  latter  of  whom  would  not  be 
of  the  party  but  that  he  happened  to  be  here  when 
I  was  too  purblind  to  correct  the  few  Proofs,  and  very 
kindly  did  so  for  me.  As  for  Mr.  Norton  (America), 
he  it  was  for  whom  it  was  printed  at  all — at  his  wish, 
he  knowing  the  MS.  had  been  lying  by  me  unfinisht 
for  years.  It  is  a  Version  of  the  two  CEdipus  Plays 
of  Sophocles  united  as  two  Parts  of  one  Drama.  I 
should  not  send  it  to  you  but  that  I  feel  sure  that, 
if  you  are  in  fair  health  and  spirits,  you  will  be  con- 
siderably interested  in  it,  and  probably  give  me  more 
credit  for  my  share  in  it  than  I  deserve.  As  I  make 
sure  of  this  you  see  there  will  be  no  need  to  say  any- 
thing more  about  it.  The  Chorus  part  is  not  mine, 
as  you  will  see ;  but  probably  quite  as  good.  Quite 
enough  on  that  score. 

I  really  want  to  know  how  you  like  your  new 
Quarters  in  dear  old  London  :  how  you  are ;  and 
whether  relieved  from  Anxiety  concerning  Mr.  Leigh. 
It  was  a  Gale  indeed,  such  as  the  oldest  hereabout 
say  they  do  not  remember :  but  it  was  all  from  the 
East :  and  I  do  not  see  why  it  should  have  travelled 
over  the  Atlantic. 

If  you  are  easy  on  that  account,  and  otherwise 
pretty  well  in  mind  and  Body,  tell  me  if  you  have 
been  to  see  the  Lyceum  '  Cup ' x  and  what  you  make 
of  it.     Somebody  sent   me   a   Macmillan2  with  an 

1  Acted  at  the  Lyceum,  January  3rd,  188 1. 

2  For  February  1881. 


2o6   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

Article  about  it  by  Lady  Pollock  :  the  extracts  she 
gave  seemed  to  me  a  somewhat  lame  imitation  of 
Shakespeare. 

I  venture  to  think — and  what  is  more  daring — to 
write,  that  my  Eyes  are  better,  after  six  weeks'  rest 
and  Blue  Glasses.  But  I  say  so  with  due  regard  to 
my  old  Friend  Nemesis. 

I  have  heard  nothing  about  my  dear  Donne  since 
you  wrote  :  and  you  only  said  that  you  had  not  heard 
a  good  account  of  him.  Since  then  you  have,  I 
doubt  not,  seen  as  well  as  heard.  But,  now  that  I 
see  better  (Absit  Invidia  !)  I  will  ask  Mowbray. 

It  is  well,  I  think,  that  Carlyle  desired  to  rest  (as 
I  am  told  he  did)  where  he  was  born — at  Ecclefechan, 
from  which  I  have,  or  had,  several  Letters  dated  by 
him.  His  Niece,  who  had  not  replied  to  my  note 
of  Enquiry,  of  two  months  ago,  wrote  to  me  after  his 
Death. 

Now  I  have  written  enough  for  you  as  well  as  for 
myself :  and  am  yours  always  the  same 

LlTTLEGRANGE.* 

*  '  What  foppery  is  this,  sir  ? ' — Dr.  Johnson. 

LXXXVII. 

[Feb.,  1881.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : — 

As  you  generally  return  a  Salute  so  directly, 
I  began  to  be  alarmed  at  not  hearing  from  you  sooner 
— either  that  you  were  ill,  or  your  Daughter,  or  some 


1881]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  207 

ill  news  about  Mr.  Leigh.  I  had  asked  one  who 
reads  the  Newspapers,  and  was  told  there  had  been 
much  anxiety  as  to  the  Cunard  Ship,  which  indeed 
was  only  just  saved  from  total  Wreck.  But  all  is  well 
so  far  as  you  and  yours  are  concerned ;  and  I  will 
sing  '  Gratias  '  along  with  you. 

Mowbray  Donne  wrote  to  tell  me  that  he  and  his 
had  provided  for  some  man  to  accompany  our  dear 
old  Friend  in  his  walks ;  and,  as  he  seems  himself 
to  like  it,  all  is  so  far  well  in  that  quarter  also. 

I  was  touched  with  the  account  of  Carlyle's  simple 
Obsequies  among  his  own  Kinsfolk,  in  the  place  of 
his  Birth — it  was  fine  of  him  to  settle  that  so  it  should 
be.  I  am  glad  also  that  Mr.  Froude  is  charged  with 
his  Biography :  a  Gentleman,  as  well  as  a  Scholar 
and  '  Writer  of  Books,'  who  will  know  what  to  leave 
unsaid  as  well  as  what  to  say. 

Your  account  of  '  The  Cup  '  is  what  I  should  have 
expected  from  you  :  and,  if  I  may  say  so,  from  myself 
had  I  seen  it. 

And  with  this  Letter  comes  my  Sophocles,  of  which 
I  have  told  you  what  I  expect  you  will  think  also,  and 
therefore  need  not  say — unless  of  a  different  opinion. 
It  came  here  I  think  the  same  Day  on  which  I  wrote 
to  tell  you  it  had  not  come :  but  I  would  not  send 
it  until  assured  that  all  was  well  with  you.  Such 
corrections  as  you  will  find  are  not  meant  as  Poetical 
— or  rather  Versifying — improvements,  but  either  to 
clear  up  obscurity,  or  to  provide  for  some  modifica- 
tions of  the  two    Plays  when  made,  as  it  were,  into 


208  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

one.  Especially  concerning  the  Age  of  CEdipus  : 
whom  I  do  not  intend  to  be  the  old  man  in  Part  II. 
as  he  appears  in  the  original.  For  which,  and  some 
other  things,  I  will,  if  Eyes  hold,  send  you  some 
printed  reasons  in  an  introductory  Letter  to  Mr. 
Norton,  at  whose  desire  I  finished  what  had  been 
lying  in  my  desk  these  dozen  years. 

As  I  said  of  my  own  yEschylus  Choruses,  I  say  of 
old  Potter's  now  :  better  just  to  take  a  hint  from 
them  of  what  they  are  about — or  imagine  it  for  your- 
self— and  then  imagine,  or  remember,  some  grand 
Organ  piece — as  of  Bach's  Preludes — which  will  be 
far  better  Interlude  than  Potter — or  I — or  even  (as  I 
dare  think)  than  Sophocles'  self! 

And  so  I  remain  your  ancient  Heretic, 

Little  G. 

The  newly  printed  Part  II.  would  not  bear  Ink. 

LXXXVIII. 

[Feb.,  1881.] 

My  dear  Lady, 

Pray  keep  the  Book :  I  always  intended 
that  you  should  do  so  if  you  liked  it :  and,  as  I 
believe  I  said,  I  was  sure  that  like  it  you  would.  I 
did  not  anticipate  how  much  :  but  am  all  the  more 
glad :  and  (were  I  twenty  years  younger)  should  be 
all  the  more  proud;  even  making,  as  I  do,  a  little 
allowance  for  your  old  and  constant  regard  to  the 
Englisher.      The   Drama   is,  however,  very  skilfully 


iS8i]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  209 

put  together,  and  very  well  versified,  although  that  not 
as  an  original  man — such  as  Dryden — would  have 
versified  it :  I  will,  by  and  by,  send  you  a  little  intro- 
ductory letter  to  Mr.  Norton,  explaining  to  him,  a 
Greek  Scholar,  why  I  have  departed  from  so  much  of 
the  original :  '  little  '  I  call  the  Letter,  but  yet  so  long 
that  I  did  not  wish  him,  or  you,  to  have  as  much 
trouble  in  reading,  as  I,  with  my  bad  Eyes,  had  in 
writing  it :  so,  as  I  tell  him — and  you — it  must  go 
to  the  Printers  along  with  the  Play  which  it  prates 
about. 

I  think  I  once  knew  why  the  two  Cities  in  Egypt 
and  Bceotia  were  alike  named  Thebes  ;  and  perhaps 
could  now  find  out  from  some  Books  now  stowed 
away  in  a  dark  Closet  which  affrights  my  Eyes  to 
think  of.  But  any  of  your  learned  friends  in  London 
will  tell  you,  and  probably  more  accurately  than 
Paddy.  I  cannot  doubt  but  that  Sphinx  and  heaps 
more  of  the  childish  and  dirty  mythology  of  Greece 
came  from  Egypt,  and  who  knows  how  far  beyond, 
whether  in  Time  or  Space  ! 

Your  Uncle,  the  great  John,  did  enact  CEdipus  in 
some  Tragedy,  by  whom  I  know  not :  I  have  a  small 
Engraving  of  him  in  the  Character,  from  a  Drawing 
of  that  very  clever  artist  De  Wilde  ; l  but  this  is  a 
heavy  Likeness,  though  it  may  have  been  a  true  one 
of  J.  K.  in  his  latter  years,  or  in  one  of  his  less 
inspired — or  more  asthmatic — moods.  This  portrait 
is  one  of  a  great  many  (several  of  Mrs.  Siddons)  in 

1  See  letters  of  April  23rd,  1880,  and  December  1881. 

14 


210  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1SS1 

a  Book  I  have — and  which  I  will  send  you  if  you 
would  care  to  see  it :  plenty  of  them  are  rubbish  such 
as  you  would  wonder  at  a  sensible  man  having  ever 
taken  the  trouble  to  put  together.  But  I  inherit 
a  long-rooted  Affection  for  the  Stage  :  almost  as  real 
a  World  to  me  as  Jacques  called  it.  Of  yourself 
there  is  but  a  Newspaper  Scrap  or  two  :  I  think  I 
must  have  cut  out  and  given  you  what  was  better : 
but  I  never  thought  any  one  worth  having  except  Sir 
Thomas',  which  I  had  from  its  very  first  Appearance, 
and  keep  in  a  large  Book  along  with  some  others  of 
a  like  size :  Kean,  Mars,  Talma,  Duchesnois,  etc., 
which  latter  I  love,  though  I  heard  more  of  them 
than  I  saw. 

Yesterday  probably  lighted  you  up  once  again  in 
London,  as  it  did  us  down  here.  '  Richard  '  thought 
he  began  to  feel  himself  up  to  his  Eyes  again :  but 
To-day  all  Winter  again,  though  I  think  I  see  the 
Sun  resolved  on  breaking  through  the  Snow  clouds. 
My  little  Aconites  —  which  are  sometimes  called 
4  New  Year  Gifts,' 1  have  almost  lived  their  little 
Lives  :  my  Snowdrops  look  only  too  much  in  Season ; 
but  we  will  hope  that  all  this  Cold  only  retards  a 
more  active  Spring. 

I  should  not  have  sent  you  the  Play  till  Night  had 
I  thought  you  would  sit  up  that  same  night  to  read 
it.  Indeed,  I  had  put  it  away  for  the  Night  Post : 
but  my  old  Hermes  came  in  to  say  he  was  going  into 
Town  to  market,  and  so  he  took  it  with  him  to  Post. 

1  See  'Letters,'  ii.  180,  320. 


i88i]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  211 

Farewell  for  the  present — till  next  Full  Moon  ?  I 
am  really  glad  that  all  that  Atlantic  worry  has  blown 
over,  and  all  ended  well  so  far  as  you  and  yours  are 
concerned.     And  I  am  always  your  ancient 

Little  G. 


LXXXIX.1 

[March,  1881.] 
My  dear  Lady, 

It  was  very,  very  good  and  kind  of  you  to 
write  to  me  about  Spedding.  Yes  :  Aldis  Wright  had 
apprised  me  of  the  matter  just  after  it  happened — he 
happening  to  be  in  London  at  the  time;  and  but 
two  days  after  the  accident  heard  that  Spedding  was 
quite  calm,  and  even  cheerful ;  only  anxious  that 
Wright  himself  should  not  be  kept  waiting  for  some 
communication  which  S.  had  promised  him  !  Whether 
to  live,  or  to  die,  he  will  be  Socrates  still. 

Directly  that  I  heard  from  Wright,  I  wrote  to 
Mowbray  Donne  to  send  me  just  a  Post  Card — daily, 
if  he  or  his  wife  could — with  but  one  or  two  words 
on  it — '  Better,'  '  Less  well,'  or  whatever  it  might  be. 
This  morning  I  hear  that  all  is  going  on  even  better 
than  could  be  expected,  according  to  Miss  Spedding. 
But  I  suppose  the  Crisis,  which  you  tell  me  of,  is  not 
yet  come ;  and  I  have  always  a  terror  of  that  French 
Adage — '  Monsieur  se  porte  mal — Monsieur  se  porte 

1  Printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  298-301. 


212  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

mieux — Monsieur  esV — Ah,  you  know — or  you  guess, 
the  rest. 

My  dear  old  Spedding,  though  I  have  not  seen 
him  these  twenty  years  and  more — and  probably 
should  never  see  him  again — but  he  lives — his  old 
Self — in  my  heart  of  hearts ;  and  all  I  hear  of  him 
does  but  embellish  the  recollection  of  him — if  it 
could  be  embellished — for  he  is  but  the  same  that 
he  was  from  a  Boy — all  that  is  best  in  Heart  and 
Head — a  man  that  would  be  incredible  had  one  not 
known  him. 

I  certainly  should  have  gone  up  to  London — even 
with  Eyes  that  will  scarce  face  the  lamps  of  Wood- 
bridge — not  to  see  him,  but  to  hear  the  first  intelli- 
gence I  could  about  him.  But  I  rely  on  the  Postcard 
for  but  a  Night's  delay.  Laurence,  Mowbray  tells 
me,  had  been  to  see  him,  and  found  him  as  calm 
as  had  been  reported  by  Wright.  But  the  Doctors 
had  said  that  he  should  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible. 

I  think,  from  what  Mowbray  also  says,  that  you 
may  have  seen  our  other  old  Friend  Donne  in  some- 
what worse  plight  than  usual  because  of  his  being 
much  shocked  at  this  Accident.  He  would  feel  it 
indeed  ! — as  you  do. 

I  had  even  thought  of  writing  to  tell  you  of  all 
this,  but  could  not  but  suppose  that  you  were  more 
likely  to  know  of  it  than  myself;  though  sometimes 
one  is  greatly  mistaken  with  those  'of  course  you 
knows,  etc' — But  you  have  known  it  all :  and  have 
very  kindly  written  of  it   to   me,  whom  you  might 


i88i]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  213 

also  have  supposed  already  informed  of  it :  but  you 
took  the  trouble  to  write,  not  relying  on  '  of  course 
you  know,  etc.' 

I  have  thought  lately  that  I  ought  to  make  some 
enquiry  about  Arthur  Malkin,  who  was  always  very 
kind  to  me.  I  had  meant  to  send  him  my  Crabbe, 
who  was  a  great  favourite  of  his  Father's,  '  an 
excellent  companion  for  Old  Age '  he  told — Donne, 
I  think.  But  I  do  not  know  if  I  ever  did  send  him 
the  Book ;  and  now,  judging  by  what  you  tell  me, 
it  is  too  late  to  do  so,  unless  for  Compliment. 

The  Sun,  I  see,  has  put  my  Fire  out — for  which 
I  only  thank  him,  and  will  go  to  look  for  him  himself 
in  my  Garden — only  with  a  Green  Shade  over  my 
Eyes.  I  must  get  to  London  to  see  you  before  you 
move  away  to  Leamington ;  when  I  can  bear  Sun  or 
Lamp  without  odious  blue  Glasses,  etc.  I  dare  to 
think  those  Eyes  are  better,  though  not  Sun-proof: 
and  I  am  ever  yours 

Little  G. 


XC.1 

20  March,  [1881.] 
My  dear  Lady, 

I  have  let  the  Full  Moon  pass  because  I 
thought  you  had  written  to  me  so  lately,  and  so 
kindly,  about  our  lost  Spedding,  that  I  would  not 
call  on  you   too   soon   again.      Of  him  I   will   say 

1  Partly  printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  305-7. 


2  14   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

nothing  except  that  his  Death  has  made  me  recall 
very  many  passages  in  his  Life  in  which  I  was  partly 
concerned.  In  particular,  staying  at  his  Cumberland 
Home  along  with  Tennyson  in  the  May  of  1835. 
*  Voila  bien  long  temps  de  ca ! '  His  Father  and 
Mother  were  both  alive  —  he,  a  wise  man,  who 
mounted  his  Cob  after  Breakfast,  and  was  at  his 
Farm  till  Dinner  at  two — then  away  again  till  Tea : 
after  which  he  sat  reading  by  a  shaded  lamp  :  saying 
very  little,  but  always  courteous,  and  quite  content 
with  any  company  his  Son  might  bring  to  the  house 
so  long  as  they  let  him  go  his  way  :  which  indeed  he 
would  have  gone  whether  they  let  him  or  no.  But 
he  had  seen  enough  of  Poets  not  to  like  them  or 
their  Trade :  Shelley,  for  a  time  living  among  the 
Lakes :  Coleridge  at  Southey's  (whom  perhaps  he 
had  a  respect  for — Sou  they,  I  mean),  and  Words- 
worth, whom  I  do  not  think  he  valued.  He  was 
rather  jealous  of  '  Jem,'  who  might  have  done  avail- 
able service  in  the  world,  he  thought,  giving  himself 
up  to  such  Dreamers ;  and  sitting  up  with  Tennyson 
conning  over  the  Morte  d'Arthur,  Lord  of  Burleigh, 
and  other  things  which  helped  to  make  up  the  two 
Volumes  of  1842.  So  I  always  associate  that  Arthur 
Idyll  with  Basanthwaite  Lake,  under  Skiddaw.  Mrs. 
Spedding  was  a  sensible,  motherly  Lady,  with  whom 
I  used  to  play  Chess  of  a  Night.  And  there  was 
an  old  Friend  of  hers,  Mrs.  Bristow,  who  always 
reminded  me  of  Miss  La  Creevy,  if  you  know  of 
such  a  Person  in  Nickleby. 


iSSi]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  215 

At  the  end  of  May  we  went  to  lodge  for  a  week 
at  Windermere — where  Wordsworth's  new  volume  of 
Yarrow  Revisited  reached  us.  W.  was  then  at  his 
home  :  but  Tennyson  would  not  go  to  visit  him  :  and 
of  course  I  did  not :  nor  even  saw  him. 

You  have,  I  suppose,  the  Carlyle  Reminiscences : 
of  which  I  will  say  nothing  except  that,  much  as  we 
outsiders  gain  by  them,  I  think  that,  on  the  whole, 
they  had  better  have  been  kept  unpublished — for 
some  while  at  least.  As  also  thinks  Carlyle's  Niece, 
who  is  surprised  that  Mr.  Froude,  whom  her  Uncle 
trusted  above  all  men  for  the  gift  of  Reticence,  should 
have  been  in  so  much  hurry  to  publish  what  was  left 
to  his  Judgment  to  publish  or  no.  But  Carlyle  him- 
self, I  think,  should  have  stipulated  for  Delay,  or 
retrenchment,  if  publisht  at  all. 

Here  is  a  dull  and  coldish  Day  after  the  fine  ones 
we  have  had — which  kept  me  out  of  doors  as  long  as 
they  lasted.  Now  one  turns  to  the  Fireside  again. 
To-morrrow  is  Equinox  Day;  when,  if  the  Wind 
should  return  to  North  East,  North  East  will  it  blow 
till  June  21,  as  we  all  believe  down  here.  My  Eyes 
are  better,  I  presume  to  say  :  but  not  what  they  were 
even  before  Christmas.  Pray  let  me  hear  how  you 
are,  and  believe  me  ever  the  same 

E.  F.G. 

Oh  !  I  doubted  about  sending  you  what  I  yet  will 
send,  as  you  already  have  what  it  refers  to.  It  really 
calls  for  no  comment  from  any  one  who  does  not  know 
the  Greek  ;  those  who  do  would  probably  repudiate  it. 


216   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

XCL1 

[April,  1 88 1.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Somewhat  before  my  usual  time,  you  see, 
but  Easter a  comes,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  if  you 
keep  it  in  London,  or  elsewhere.  Elsewhere  there 
has  been  no  inducement  to  go  until  To-day  :  when 
the  Wind,  though  yet  East,  has  turned  to  the  Southern 
side  of  it :  one  can  walk  without  any  wrapper ;  and 
I  dare  to  fancy  we  have  turned  the  corner  of  Winter 
at  last.  People  talk  of  changed  Seasons  :  only  yester- 
day I  was  reading  in  my  dear  old  Sevigne,  how  she 
was  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Chaulnes  at  their 
Chateau  of  Chaulnes  in  Picardy  all  but  two  hundred 
years  ago;  that  is  in  1689  :  and  the  green  has  not  as 
yet  ventured  to  show  its  '  nez '  nor  a  Nightingale  to 
sing.3  You  see  that  I  have  returned  to  her  as  for 
some  Spring  Music,  at  any  rate.  As  for  the  Birds,  I 
have  nothing  but  a  Robin,  who  seems  rather  pleased 
when  I  sit  down  on  a  Bench  under  an  Ivied  Pollard, 
where  I  suppose  he  has  a  Nest,  poor  little  Fellow. 
But  we  have  terrible  Superstitions  about  him  here ; 
no  less  than  that  he  always  kills  his  Parents  if  he 
can :  my  young  Reader  is  quite  determined  on  this 

1  Printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  310-312. 

2  April  17th  was  Easter  Day  in  1881. 

3  Madame  de  S6vigne  writes  from  Chaulnes,  April  17th,  1689,  '  A 
peine  le  vert  veut-il  montrer  le  nez  ;  pas  un  rossignol  encore  ;  enfin, 
l'hiver  le  17  d'Avril.' 


i88i]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE 

head :  and  there  lately  has  been  a  Paper  in  some 
Magazine  to  the  same  effect. 

My  dear  old  Spedding  sent  me  back  to  old  Words- 
worth too,  who  sings  (his  best  songs,  I  think)  about 
the  Mountains  and  Lakes  they  were  both  associated 
with :  and  with  a  quiet  feeling  he  sings,  that  some- 
how comes  home  to  me  more  now  than  ever  it  did 
before. 

As  to  Carlyle — I  thought  on  my  first  reading  that 
he  must  have  been  *  egare '  at  the  time  of  writing  :  a 
condition  which  I  well  remember  saying  to  Spedding 
long  ago  that  one  of  his  temperament  might  likely 
fall  into.  And  now  I  see  that  Mrs.  Oliphant  hints 
at  something  of  the  sort.  Hers  I  think  an  admirable 
Paper : *  better  than  has  yet  been  written,  or  (I 
believe)  is  likely  to  be  written  by  any  one  else. 
Merivale,  who  wrote  me  that  he  had  seen  you,  had 
also  seen  Mrs.  Procter,  who  was  vowing  vengeance, 
and  threatening  to  publish  letters  from  Carlyle  to 
Basil  Montagu  full  of  '  fulsome  flattery ' — which  I  do 
not  believe,  and  should  not,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  unless 
I  saw  it  in  the  original.  I  forget  now  what  T.  C. 
says  of  him:  (I  have  lent  the  Book  out) — but 
certainly  Barry  Cornwall  told  Thackeray  he  was  *  a 
humbug ' — which  I  think  was  no  uncommon  opinion : 
I  do  not  mean  dishonest :  but  of  pretension  to  Learn- 
ing and  Wisdom  far  beyond  the  reality.  I  must  think 
Carlyle's  judgments  mostly,  or  mainly,  true ;  but  that 
he  must  have  '  lost  his  head,'  if  not  when  he  recorded 

1  In  Macmillari s  Magazine,  for  April  1881. 


218    LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

them,  yet  when  he  left  them  in  any  one's  hands  to 
decide  on  their  publication.  Especially  when  not 
about  Public  Men,  but  about  their  Families.  It  is 
slaying  the  Innocent  with  the  Guilty.  But  of  all 
this  you  have  doubtless  heard  in  London  more  than 
enough.  '  Pauvre  et  triste  humanite ! '  One's  heart 
opens  again  to  him  at  the  last :  sitting  alone  in  the 
middle  of  her  Room — '  I  want  to  die ' — '  I  want — a 
Mother.'  'Ah,  Mamma  Letizia ! '  Napoleon  is  said 
to  have  murmured  as  he  lay.  By  way  of  pendant  to 
this,  recurs  to  me  the  Story  that  when  Ducis  was 
wretched  his  mother  would  lay  his  head  on  her 
Bosom — '  Ah,  mon  homme,  mon  pauvre  homme  ! ' 

Well — I  am  expecting  Aldis  Wright  here  at  Easter : 
and  a  young  London  Clerk  (this  latter  I  did  invite 
for  his  short  holiday,  poor  Fellow !)  Wright  is  to 
read  me  '  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen.' 

And  now  I  have  written  more  than  enough  for 
yourself  and  me :  whose  Eyes  may  be  the  worse  for 
it  to-morrow.  I  still  go  about  in  Blue  Glasses,  and 
flinch  from  Lamp  and  Candle.  Pray  let  me  know 
about  your  own  Eyes,  and  your  own  Self;  and  believe 
me  always  sincerely  yours 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

I  really  was  relieved  that  you  did  not  write  to  thank 
me  for  the  poor  flowers  which  I  sent  you.  They 
were  so  poor  that  I  thought  you  would  feel  bound  so 
to  do,  and,  when  they  were  gone,  repented.  I  have 
now  some  gay  Hyacinths  up,  which  make  my  patty- 
pan Beds  like  China  Dishes. 


1SS1]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  219 


XCII.1 

[April,  1 88 1.] 

My  dear  Lady  : 

This  present  Letter  calls  for  no  answer — 
except  just  that  which  perhaps  you  cannot  make  it. 
If  you  have  that  copy  of  Plays  revised  by  John  the 
Great  which  I  sent,  or  brought,  you,  I  wish  you 
would  cause  your  Maid  to  pack  it  in  brown  Paper, 
and  send  it  by  Rail  duly  directed  to  me.  I  have  a 
wish  to  show  it  to  Aldis  Wright,  who  takes  an  Interest 
in  your  Family,  as  in  your  Prophet.  If  you  have 
already  dismissed  the  Book  elsewhere — not  much 
liking,  I  think,  the  stuff  which  J.  K.  spent  so  much 
trouble  on,  I  shall  not  be  surprised,  nor  at  all  aggrieved : 
and  there  is  not  much  for  A.  W.  to  profit  by  unless 
in  seeing  what  pains  your  noble  Uncle  took  with  his 
Calling. 

It  has  been  what  we  call  down  here  '  smurring ' 
rather  than  raining,  all  day  long:  and  I  think  that 
Flower  and  Herb  already  show  their  gratitude.  My 
Blackbird  (I  think  it  is  the  same  I  have  tried  to  keep 
alive  during  the  Winter)  seems  also  to  have  '  wetted 
his  Whistle,'  and  what  they  call  the  '  Cuckoo's  mate,' 
with  a  rather  harsh  scissor  note,  announces  that  his 
Partner  may  be  on  the  wing  to  these  Latitudes.  You 
will  hear  of  him  at  Mr.  W.  Shakespeare's,  it  may  be. 
There  must  be  Violets,  white  and  blue,  somewhere 

1  Partly  printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  313. 


220  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

about  where  he  lies,  I  think.  They  are  generally 
found  in  a  Churchyard,  where  also  (the  Hunters  used 
to  say)  a  Hare :  for  the  same  reason  of  comparative 
security,  I  suppose. 

I  am  very  glad  you  agree  with  me  about  Mrs. 
Oliphant.  That  one  paper  of  hers  makes  me  wish 
to  read  her  Books. 

You  must  somehow,  or  some  while,  let  me  know 
your  Address   in   Leamington,  unless   a   Letter   ad- 
dressed to  Cavendish  Square  will  find  you  there. 
Always  and  truly  yours 

Little  G. 


XCIII. 


May  8,  [1881.] 


My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble: 

You  will  not  break  your  Law,  though  you 
have  done  so  once— to  tell  me  of  Spedding — But 
now  you  will  not — nor  let  me  know  your  Address — 
so  I  must  direct  to  you  at  a  venture :  to  Marshall 
Thompson's,  whither  I  suppose  you  will  return  awhile, 
even  if  you  be  not  already  there.  I  think,  however, 
that  you  are  not  there  yet.  If  still  at  Leamington, 
you  look  upon  a  sight  which  I  used  to  like  well ;  that 
is,  the  blue  Avon  (as  in  this  weather  it  will  be) 
running  through  buttercup  meadows  all  the  way  to 
Warwick — unless  those  Meadows  are  all  built  over 
since  I  was  there  some  forty  years  ago. 

1  Partly  printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  312. 


i88i]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  221 

Aldis  Wright  stayed  with  me  a  whole  week  at 
Easter :  and  we  did  very  well.  Much  Shakespeare — 
especially  concerning  that  curious  Question  about  the 
Quarto  and  Folio  Hamlets  which  people  are  now 
trying  to  solve  by  Action  as  well  as  by  Discussion. 
Then  we  had  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen — which 
Tennyson  and  other  Judges  were  assured  has  much 
of  W.  S.  in  it.  Which  parts  I  forget,  or  never  heard : 
but  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  great  deal  of  the  Play 
might  be  his,  though  not  of  his  best:  but  Wright 
could  find  him  nowhere. 

Miss  Crabbe  sent  me  a  Letter  from  Carlyle's  Niece, 
cut  out  from  some  Newspaper,  about  her  Uncle's 
MS.  Memoir,  and  his  written  words  concerning  it. 
Even  if  Froude's  explanation  of  the  matter  be  correct, 
he  ought  to  have  still  taken  any  hesitation  on  Carlyle's 
part  as  sufficient  proof  that  the  MS.  were  best  left 
unpublisht :  or,  at  any  rate,  great  part  of  it.  If  you 
be  in  London,  you  will  be  wearied  enough  with  hear- 
ing about  this. 

I  am  got  back  to  my — Sevigne  ! — who  somehow 
returns  to  me  in  Spring :  fresh  as  the  Flowers.  These 
latter  have  done  but  badly  this  Spring,  cut  off  or 
withered  by  the  Cold :  and  now  parched  up  by  this 
blazing  Sun  and  dry  Wind.  If  you  get  my  letter, 
pray  answer  it  and  tell  me  how  you  are :  and  ever 
believe  me  yours 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 


222   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

XCIV. 

May,  [1 88 1.] 
My  dear  Lady, 

If  I  did  not  write  (as  doubtless  I  ought)  to 
acknowledge  the  Playbook,  I  really  believe  that  I 
thought  you  would  have  felt  bound  to  answer  my 
acknowledgment !  It  came  all  right,  thank  you :  and 
A.  Wright  looked  it  over :  and  it  has  been  lying  ready 
to  be  returned  to  you  whenever  you  should  be  re- 
turned to  London.  I  assure  you  that  I  wish  you  to 
keep  it,  unless  it  be  rather  unacceptable  than  other- 
wise; I  never  thought  you  would  endure  the  Plays 
themselves ;  only  that  you  might  be  interested  in 
your  brave  Uncle's  patient  and,  I  think,  just,  revision 
of  them.  This  was  all  I  cared  for:  and  wished  to 
show  to  A.  W.  as  being  interested  in  all  that  concerns 
so  noble  an  Interpreter  of  his  Shakespeare  as  your 
Uncle  was.  If  you  do  not  care — or  wish — to  have 
the  Book  again,  tell  me  of  some  one  you  would  wish 
to  have  it :  had  I  wished,  I  should  have  told  you  so 
at  once :  but  I  now  give  away  even  what  I  might 
have  wished  for  to  those  who  are  in  any  way  more 
likely  to  be  more  interested  in  them  than  myself,  or 
are  likely  to  have  a  few  more  years  of  life  to  make 
what  they  may  of  them.  I  do  not  think  that  A.  W. 
is  one  of  such :  he  thought  (as  you  may  do)  of  so 
much  pains  wasted  on  such  sorry  stuff. 

So  far  from  disagreeing  with  you  about  Shakespeare 


li]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE 


--j 


emendations,  etc.,  I  have  always  been  of  the  same 
mind:  quite  content  with  what  pleased  myself,  and, 
as  to  the  elder  Dramatists,  always  thinking  they  would 
be  better  all  annihilated  after  some  Selections  made 
from  them,  as  C.  Lamb  did. 

Mowbray  Donne  wrote  to  me  a  fortnight  or  so 
since  that  his  Father  was  '  pretty  well,'  but  weak  in 
the  knees.  Three  days  ago  came  in  Archdeacon 
Groome,  who  told  me  that  a  Friend  of  Mowbray's 
had  just  heard  from  him  that  his  Father  had  symptoms 
of  dropsy  about  the  Feet  and  Ankles.  I  have  not, 
however,  written  to  ask ;  and,  not  having  done  so, 
perhaps  ought  not  to  sadden  you  with  what  may  be 
an  inaccurate  report.  But  one  knows  that,  sooner  or 
later,  some  such  end  must  come ;  and  that,  in  the 
meanwhile,  Donne's  Life  is  but  little  preferable  to 
that  which  promises  the  speedier  end  to  it. 

We  are  all  drying  up  here  with  hot  Sun  and  cold 
Wind;  my  Water-pot  won't  keep  Polyanthus  and 
Anemone  from  perishing.  I  should  have  thought  the 
nightly  Frosts  and  Winds  would  have  done  for  Fruit 
as  well  as  Flower:  but  I  am  told  it  is  not  so  as 
yet:  and  I  hope  for  an  honest  mess  of  Gooseberry 
Fool  yet.  In  the  meanwhile,  '  Ce  sera  le  mois  de 
Mai  tant  qu'il  plaira  a  Dieu,'  and  I  am  always  your 
ancient 

Little  G. 


224  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 


XCV. 

WOODBRIDGE  :   TUESDAY  : 

[End  of  May,  1881.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble: 

I  must  write  you  a  word  of  '  God  Speed  ' 
before  you  go :  before  even  you  go  to  London  to 
prepare  for  going :  for,  if  I  wait  till  then,  you  will  be 
all  bother  with  preparations,  and  leave-takings ;  and 
nevertheless  feel  yourself  bound  to  answer.  Pray 
do  not,  even  if  (as  I  suppose)  still  at  Leamington ; 
for  you  will  still  have  plenty  to  think  about  with 
Daughter  and  Children.  I  do  not  propose  to  go  to 
London  to  shake  hands  before  you  go  off:  for,  as 
I  say,  you  will  have  enough  of  that  without  me — and 
my  blue  Spectacles,  which  I  can  only  discard  as  yet 
when  looking  on  the  Grass  and  young  Leaves. 

I  duly  sent  your  Book  to  Henry  Kemble,  as  you 
desired:  and  received  a  very  polite  Note  from  him 
in  acknowledgment. 

And  now  my  house  is  being  pulled  about  my  Ears 
by  preparations  for  my  Nieces  next  week.  And, 
instead  of  my  leaving  the  coast  clear  to  Broom  and 
Dust-pan,  I  believe  that  Charles  Keene  will  be  here 
from  Friday  to  Monday.  As  he  has  long  talked  of 
coming,  I  do  not  like  to  put  him  off  now  he  has 
really  proposed  to  come,  and  we  shall  scramble  on 
somehow.  And  I  will  get  a  Carriage  and  take  him  a 
long   Drive  into  the  Country  where  it  is   greenest. 


1881]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  225 

He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  and  has  lately  lost  his 
Mother,  to  whom  he  was  a  very  pious  Son ;  a  man 
who  can  reverence,  although  a  Droll  in  Punch. 

You  will  believe  that  I  wish  you  all  well  among 
your  Mountains.  George  Crabbe  has  been  (for 
Health's  sake)  in  Italy  these  last  two  months,  and 
wrote  me  his  last  Note  from  the  Lago  Maggiore. 
My  Sister  Jane  Wilkinson  talks  of  coming  over  to 
England  this  Summer:  but  I  think  her  courage  will 
fail  her  when  the  time  comes.  If  ever  you  should 
go  to,  or  near,  Florence,  she  would  be  sincerely  glad 
to  see  you,  and  to  talk  over  other  Days.  She  is  not 
at  all  obtrusively  religious :  and  I  think  must  have 
settled  abroad  to  escape  some  of  the  old  Associa- 
tions in  which  she  took  so  much  part,  to  but  little 
advantage  to  herself  or  others. 

You  know  that  I  cannot  write  to  you  when  you 
are  abroad  unless  you  tell  me  whither  I  am  to  direct. 
And  you  probably  will  not  do  that :  but  I  do  not,  and 
shall  [not]  cease  to  be  yours  always  and  truly 

E.  F.G. 


XCVI. 

[Nov.  1 881.] 
My  dear  Lady: 

I  was  not  quite  sure,  from  your  letter, 
whether  you  had  received  mine  directed  to  you  in 
the  Cavendish  Square  Hotel: — where  your  Nephew 
told   me  you  were   to   be   found.     It  is  no  matter 

15 


226  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

otherwise  than  that  I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  had 
not  only  enquired  if  you  were  returned  from  abroad, 
but  had  written  whither  I  was  told  you  were  to  be 
found.     Of  which  enough. 

I  am  sorry  you  are  gone  again  to  Westminster, 
to  which  I  cannot  reconcile  myself  as  to  our  old 
London.  Even  Bloomsbury  recalls  to  me  the  pink 
May  which  used  to  be  seen  in  those  old  Squares — 
sixty  years  ago.  But  '  enfin,  voila  qui  est  fait.'  You 
know  where  that  comes  from.  I  have  not  lately  been 
in  company  with  my  old  dear:  Annie  Thackeray's 
Book 1  is  a  pretty  thing  for  Ladies  in  a  Rail  carriage ; 
but  my  old  Girl  is  scarce  half  herself  in  it.  And 
there  are  many  inaccuracies,  I  think.  Mais  enfin, 
voila,  etc. 

Athenaeum  and  Academy  advertise  your  Sequel 
to  Records.2  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  look  forward 
to  it.  I  wish  you  would  insert  that  capital  Paper 
on  Dramatic  and  Theatrical  from  the  Cornhill.3  It 
might  indeed  very  properly,  as  I  thought,  have  found 
a  place  in  the  Records. 

Mowbray  Donne  wrote  me  a  month  ago  that  his 
Father  was  very  feeble:  one  cannot  expect  but  that 
he  will  continue  to  become  more  and  more  so.  I 
should  run  up  to  London  to  see  him,  if  I  thought 
my  doing  so  would  be  any  real  comfort  to  him :  but 
that  only  his  Family  can  be  to  him  :  and  I  think 

1  On  Madame  de  S£vign£. 

2  Published  in  1882  as  '  Records  of  Later  Life.' 

3  See  letter  of  August  24th,  1875. 


iSSi]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  227 

he  may  as  little  wish  to  exhibit  his  Decay  to  an 
old  Friend,  who  so  long  knew  him  in  a  far  other 
condition,  as  his  friend  might  wish  to  see  him  so 
altered.  This  is  what  I  judge  from  my  own  feelings. 
I  have  only  just  got  my  Garden  laid  up  for  the 
winter,  and  planted  some  trees  in  lieu  of  those  which 
that  last  gale  blew  down.  I  hear  that  Kensington 
Gardens  suffered  greatly :  how  was  it  with  your  Green 
Park,  on  which  you  now  look  down  from  such  a 
height,  and,  I  suppose,  through  a  London  Fog  ? 

Ever  yours 

Little  G. 


XCVII. 


{Dec.  1 88 1.] 


My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble: 

I  will  write  to  you  before  1881  is  gone, 
carrying  Christmas  along  with  him.  A  dismal 
Festivity  it  always  seems  to  me — I  dare  say  not 
much  merrier  to  you.  I  think  you  will  tell  me 
where,  and  with  whom,  you  pass  it.  My  own 
company  are  to  be,  Aldis  Wright,  with  whom  Shake- 
speare, etc.,  a  London  Clerk,  may  be — that  is,  if  he 
can  get  sufficient  Holyday — and  one  or  two  Guests 
for  the  Day. 

I  forget  if  I  wrote  to  you  since  I  had  a  letter  from 
Hallam  Tennyson,  telling  me  of  a  Visit  that  he  and 
his  Father  had  been  making  to  Warwickshire  and 


228  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1881 

Sherwood.      The    best   news   was   that   A.    T.    was 
'  walking  and  working  as  usual.' 

Why,  what  is  become  of  your  Sequel  ?  I  see  no 
more  advertisement  of  it  in  Athenceum  and  Academy 
— unless  it  appears  in  the  last,  which  I  have  not 
conned  over.  Somehow  I  think  it  not  impossible — 
or  even  unlikely — that  you — may — have — withdrawn 
— for  some  reason  of  your  own.  You  see  that  I 
speak  with  hesitation — meaning  no  offence — and 
only  hoping  for  my  own,  and  other  sakes  that  I 
am  all  astray. 

We  are  reading  Nigel,  which  I  had  not  expected 
to  care  for :  but  so  far  as  I  got — four  first  Chapters — 
makes  me  long  for  Night  to  hear  more.  That  return 
of  Richie  to  his  Master,  and  dear  George  Heriot's 
visit  just  after !  Oh,  Sir  Walter  is  not  done  for  yet 
by  Austens  and  Eliots.  If  one  of  his  Merits  were 
not  his  clea?'  Daylight,  one  thinks,  there  ought  to 
be  Societies  to  keep  his  Lamp  trimmed  as  well  as 
— Mr.  Browning.  He  is  The  Newest  Shakespeare 
Society  of  Mr.  Furnivall. 

The  Air  is  so  mild,  though  windy,  that  I  can 
even  sit  abroad  in  the  Sunshine.  I  scarce  dare  ask 
about  Donne;  neither  you,  nor  Mowbray — I  dare 
say  I  shall  hear  from  the  latter  before  Christmas. 
What  you  wrote  convinced  me  there  was  no  use  in 
going  up  only  to  see  him — or  little  else — so  painful 
to  oneself  and  so  little  cheering  to  him !  I  do  think 
that  he  is  best  among  his  own. 

But  I  do  not  forget  him — '  No  ! ' — as  the  Spaniards 


1882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  229 

say.  Nor  you,  dear  Mrs.  Kemble,  being  your  ancient 
Friend  (with  a  new  name)  Littlegrange  ! 

What  would  you  say  of  the  CEdipus,  not  of 
Sophocles,  but  of  Dryden  and  Nat  Lee,  in  which 
your  uncle  acted  ! 

P.S.  You  did  not  mention  anything  about  your 
Family,  so  I  conclude  that  all  is  well  with  them, 
both  in  England  and  America. 

I  wish  you  would  just  remember  me  to  Mr.  H. 
Aide,  who  was  very  courteous  to  me  when  I  met 
him  in  your  room. 

This  extra  Paper  is,  you  see,  to  serve  instead  of 
crossing  my  Letter. 

XCVIII.1 

[Fed.  1882.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

This  week  I  was  to  have  been  in  London — 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing — or  offering  to  see — our 
dear  Donne.  For,  when  they  told  him  of  my  offer, 
he  said  he  should  indeed  like  it  much — '  if  he  were 
well  enough.'  Anyhow,  I  can  but  try,  only  making 
him  previously  understand  that  he  is  not  to  make  any 
effort  in  the  case.  He  is,  they  tell  me,  pleased  with 
any  such  mark  of  remembrance  and  regard  from  his 
old  Friends.  And  I  should  have  offered  to  go  before 
now,  had  I  not  judged  from  your  last  account  of  him 
that  he  was  better  left  with  his  Family,  for  his  own 

1  Partly  printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  320-1. 


230  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

sake,  as  well  [as]  for  that  of  his  Friends.  However, 
as  I  said,  I  should  have  gone  up  on  Trial  even  now, 
but  that  I  have  myself  been,  and  am  yet,  suffering 
with  some  sort  of  Cold  (I  think,  from  some  indications, 
Bronchial)  which  would  ill  enable  me  to  be  of  any 
use  if  I  got  to  London.  I  can't  get  warm,  in  spite 
of  Fires,  and  closed  doors,  so  must  wait,  at  any  rate, 
to  see  what  another  week  will  do  for  me. 

I  shall,  of  course,  make  my  way  to  Queen  Anne's, 
where  I  should  expect  to  find  you  still  busy  with  your 
Proof-sheets,  which  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  of  as 
going  on.  What  could  have  put  it  into  my  head  even 
to  think  otherwise  ?  Well,  more  unlikely  things  might 
nave  happened — even  with  Medes  and  Persians.  I 
do  not  think  you  will  be  offended  at  my  vain  surmises. 

I  see  my  poor  little  Aconites — '  New  Year's  Gifts ' 
— still  surviving  in  the  Garden-plot  before  my  window ; 
'still  surviving,'  I  say,  because  of  their  having  been 
out  for  near  a  month  agone.  I  believe  that  Messrs. 
Daffodil,  Crocus  and  Snowdrop  are  putting  in  appear- 
ance above  ground  :  but  (old  Coward)  I  have  not  put 
my  own  old  Nose  out  of  doors  to  look  for  them. 

I  read  (Eyes  permitting)  the  Correspondence 
between  Goethe  and  Schiller  (translated)  from  1798 
to  1806 x — extremely  interesting  to  me,  though  I  do 
not  understand — and  generally  skip — the  more  purely 
^Esthetic  Part :  which  is  the  Part  of  Hamlet,  I 
suppose.  But,  in  other  respects,  two  such  men  so 
freely  discussing  together  their  own,  and  each  other's, 
1  The  correct  date  is  1794-1805. 


1882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  231 

works  interest  me  greatly.  At  Night,  we  have  The 
Fortunes  of  Nigel ;  a  little  of  it — and  not  every  night : 
for  the  reason  that  I  do  not  wish  to  eat  my  Cake  too 
soon.  The  last  night  but  one  I  sent  my  Reader  to 
see  Macbeth  played  by  a  little  '  Shakespearian ' 
company  at  a  Lecture  Hall  here.  He  brought  me 
one  new  Reading — suggested,  I  doubt  not,  by  himself, 
from  a  remembrance  of  Macbeth' s  tyrannical  ways : 
'  Hang  out  our  Gallows  on  the  outward  walls.' 
Nevertheless,  the  Boy  took  great  Interest  in  the 
Play ;  and  I  like  to  encourage  him  in  Shakespeare, 
rather  than  in  the  Negro  Melodists. 

Such  a  long  Letter  as  I  have  written  (and,  I  doubt, 
ill  written)  really  calls  for  Apology  from  me,  busy  as 
you  may  be  with  those  Proofs.  But  still  believe  me 
sincerely  yours 

Though  Laird  of  Littlegrange. 


XCIX. 

[Feb.  1882.] 
My  dear  Lady: — 

The  same  Post  which  brought  me  your  very 
kind  Letter,  brought  me  also  the  enclosed. 

The  writer  of  it — Mr.  Schiitz  Wilson — a  Litterateur 
general — I  believe — wrote  up  Omar  Khayyam  some 
years  ago,  and,  I  dare  say,  somewhat  hastened  another 
(and  so  far  as  I  am  concerned)  final  Edition.  Of  his 
Mr.  Terriss  I  did  not  know  even  by  name,  till  Mr. 


232  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

Wilson  told  me.     So  now  you  can  judge  and  act  as 
you  see  fit  in  the  matter. 

If  Terriss  and  Schiitz  W.  fail  in  knowing  your 
London  'habitat/  you  see  that  the  former  makes 
amends  in  proposing  to  go  so  far  as  Cheltenham  to 
ask  advice  of  you.  Our  poor  dear  Donne  would  have 
been  so  glad,  and  so  busy,  in  telling  what  he  could 
in  the  matter — if  only  in  hope  of  keeping  up  your 
Father's  Tradition. 

I  am  ashamed  to  advert  to  my  own  little  ailments, 
while  you,  I  doubt  not,  are  enduring  worse.  I  should 
have  gone  to  London  last  week  had  I  believed  that 
a  week  earlier  or  later  mattered ;  as  things  are,  I  will 
not  reckon  on  going  before  next  week.  I  want  to  be 
well  enough  to  '  cut  about '  and  see  the  three  friends 
whom  I  want  to  see — yourself  among  the  number. 

Blakesley  (Lincoln's  Dean)  goes  to  stay  in  London 
next  week,  and  hopes  to  play  Whist  in  Weymouth 
Street. 

Kegan  Paul,  etc.,  publish  dear  Spedding's '  Evenings,' * 
etc.,  and  never  was  Book  more  worth  reading — and 
buying.  I  think  I  understand  your  weariness  in 
bringing  out  your  Book :  but  many  will  be  the 
Gainers : — among  them  yours  always 

LittleG. 

1  '  Evenings  with  a  Reviewer.'    The  Reviewer  was  Macaulay,  and 
the  review  the  Essay  on  Bacon. 


Z882]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  233 

c. 

[Fed.  1882.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble: 

I  have  quoted,  and  sent  to  Mr.  Schiitz 
Wilson,  just  thus  much  of  your  Letter,  leaving  his 
Friend  to  judge  whether  it  is  sufficiently  encouraging 
to  invite  him  to  call  on  you.  I  suppose  it  is :  but  I 
thought  safest  to  give  your  ipsissima  verba. 

1  It  is  so  perfectly  easy  for  any  one  in  London  to 
obtain  my  Address,  that  I  think  I  may  leave  the 
future  Mercutio  to  do  so  at  his  leisure  or  pleasure.' 

I  dare  say  you  are  pretty  much  indifferent  whether 
he  ventures  or  not ;  if  he  does,  I  can  only  hope  that 
he  is  a  Gentleman,  and  if  he  be  so,  I  do  not  think 
you  will  be  sorry  to  help  him  in  trying  to  keep  up 
your  Father's  traditionary  excellence  in  the  part,  and 
to  save  Mr.  Terriss — to  save  Mercutio — from  the 
contagion  of  Mr.  Irving's  treatment  of  Shakespeare — 
so  far  as  I  have  seen  of  it — which  is  simply  two  acts 
of  Hamlet. 

As  I  told  you,  I  know  nothing — even  hitherto  heard 
nothing  of  Mr.  Terriss.  His  friend,  S.  Wilson,  I  have 
never  seen  neither.  And  I  hope  you  will  think  I 
have  done  fairly  well  in  my  share  of  the  Business. 

Fanny  Kerrich,  my  Niece,  and  a  capital  Woman, 
comes  to  me  to-day,  not  more  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  myself,   than  my  Brother's  Widow  who  lives 


UBi 


tjniv: 


234  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

alone  in  a  dismal  place  three  miles  off.1  I  am  still 
wheezy,  and  want  to  get  in  order  so  as  to  visit  my 
few  friends  in  London  next  week.2 

You  see  there  is  no  occasion  for  you  to  answer  this  : 
for,  even  if  I  have  done  amiss,  it  is  past  recall ;  and 
I  am  none  the  less  ancient  Friend 

LittleG.  ! 


CI. 

[March,  1882.] 

My  dear  Lady, 

It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  break  through  your 
rule  of  Correspondence,  that  you  may  tell  me  how  it 
was  with  you  that  last  Evening.  I  was  aware  of  no 
1  stupidity '  on  your  side :  I  only  saw  that  you  were 
what  you  called  '  a  little  tired,  and  unwell.'  Had  I 
known  how  much,  I  should  of  course  have  left  you 
with  a  farewell  shake  of  hands  at  once.  And  in  so 
far  I  must  blame  you.  But  I  blame  myself  for  rattling 
on,  not  only  then,  but  always,  I  fear,  in  a  manner 
that  you  tell  me  (and  I  thank  you  for  telling  me)  runs 
into  occasional  impertinence — which  no  length  of 
acquaintance  can  excuse,  especially  to  a  Lady.  You 
will  think  that  here  is  more  than  enough  of  this.  But 
pray  do  you  also  say  no  more  about  it.  I  know  that 
you  regard  me  very  kindly,  as  I  am  sure  that  I  do 
you,  all  the  while. 

1  At  Boulge. 

2  He  was  in  London  from  February  17th  to  February  20th. 


1882]  T0„  FANNY   KEMBLE  235 

And  now  I  have  something  to  say  upon  something 
of  a  like  account ;  about  that  Mr.  Schiitz  Wilson,  who 
solicited  an  Introduction  to  you  for  his  Mercutio,  and 
then  proposed  to  you  to  avail  himself  of  it.  That  I 
thought  he  had  better  have  waited  for,  rather  than 
himself  proposed ;  and  I  warned  you  that  I  had  been 
told  of  his  being  somewhat  of  a  'prosateur'  at  his 
Club.  You,  however,  would  not  decline  his  visit,  and 
would  encourage  him,  or  not,  as  you  saw  fit. 

And  now  the  man  has  heaped  coals  of  fire  on  my 
head.  Not  content  with  having  formerly  appraised 
that  Omar  in  a  way  that,  I  dare  say,  advanced  him  to 
another  Edition ;  he  (S.W.)  now  writes  me  that  he 
feels  moved  to  write  in  favour  of  another  Persian  who 
now  accompanies  Omar  in  his  last  Avatar !  I  have 
told  him  plainly  that  he  had  better  not  employ  time 
and  talent  on  what  I  do  not  think  he  will  ever  persuade 
the  Public  to  care  about — but  he  thinks  he  will.1  He 
may  very  likely  cool  upon  it :  but,  in  the  meanwhile, 
such  are  his  good  Intentions,  not  only  to  the  little 
Poem,  but,  I  believe,  to  myself  also — personally 
unknown  as  we  are  to  one  another.  Therefore,  my 
dear  Lady,  though  I  cannot  retract  what  I  told  you 
on  such  authority  as  I  had, — nevertheless,  as  you 
were  so  far  prejudiced  in  his  favour  because  of  such 
service  as  he  formerly  was  to  me,  I  feel  bound  to  tell 
you  of  this  fresh  offer  on  his  part:  so  that,  as  you 
were  not  unwilling  to  receive  him  on  trial  before,  you 
may  not  be  less  favourably  disposed  toward  him  now ; 

1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  324-6. 


236  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

in  case  he  should  call — which  I  doubt  not  he  will  do ; 
though  be  pleased  to  understand  that  I  have  no  more 
encouraged  him  to  do  so  now  than  at  first  I  did. 

What  a  long  Story  ! — I  still  chirp  a  little  in  my 
throat ;  but  go  my  ways  abroad  by  Night  as  well  as 
by  Day:  even  sitting  out,  as  only  last  night  I  did. 
The  S.W.  wind  that  is  so  mild,  yet  sweeps  down  my 
garden  in  a  way  that  makes  havoc  of  Crocus  and 
Snowdrop ;  Messrs.  Daffodil  and  Hyacinth  stand  up 
better  against  it. 

I  hear  that  Lord  Houghton  has  been  partly 
paralysed  :  but  is  up  again.  Thompson,  Master  of 
Trinity,  had  a  very  slight  [attack  of  it  some  months 
ago  ;  I  was  told  Venables  had  been  ill,  but  I  know 
not  of  what,  nor  how  much ;  and  all  these  my  con- 
temporaries ;  and  I,  at  any  rate,  still  yours  as  ever 

E.  F.G. 


CII. 

LlTTLEGRANGE  :   WOODBRIDGE, 
March  31,  [1882.] 

Dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : — 

It  is  not  yet  full  Moon  \x — but  it  is  my  74th 
Birthday  :  and  you  are  the  only  one  whom  I  write  to 
on  that  great  occasion.  A  good  Lady  near  here  told 
me  she  meant  to  pay  me  a  visit  of  congratulation : 
and  I  begged  her  to  stay  at  home,  and  neither  say, 
nor  write,  anything  about  it.     I  do  not  know  that  [I] 

1  Full  moon  April  3rd,  1882. 


i882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  237 

have  much  to  say  to  you  now  that  I  am  inspired  ; 
but  it  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  be  going  away 
somewhere  for  Easter,  and  so  I  would  try  to  get  a 
word  from  you  concerning  yourself  before  you  left 
London. 

The  Book  ?  ' Ready  immediately '  advertised 
Bentley  near  a  fortnight  ago  :  to-morrow's  Academy 
or  Athenaeum  will  perhaps  be  talking  of  it  to-morrow  : 
of  all  which  you  will  not  read  a  word,  I  '  guess.'  I 
think  you  will  get  out  of  London  for  Easter,  if  but  to 
get  out  of  the  way.  Or  are  you  too  indifferent  even 
for  that  ? 

Satiated  as  you  may  have  been  with  notices  and 
records  of  Carlyle,  do,  nevertheless,  look  at  Wylie's 
Book  *  about  him  :  if  only  for  a  Scotch  Schoolboy's 
account  of  a  Visit  to  him  not  long  before  he  died, 
and  also  the  words  of  his  Bequest  of  Craigenputtock 
to  some  Collegiate  Foundation.  Wylie  (of  whom  I 
did  not  read  all,  or  half)  is  a  Worshipper,  but  not  a 
blind  one.  He  says  that  Scotland  is  to  be  known  as 
the  '  Land  of  Carlyle '  from  henceforward.  One  used 
to  hear  of  the  c  Land  of  Burns  ' — then,  I  think,  '  of 
Scott.' 

There  is  already  a  flush  of  Green,  not  only  on  the 
hedges,  but  on  some  of  the  trees ;  all  things  for- 
warder, I  think,  by  six  weeks  than  last  year.  Here 
is  a  Day  for  entering  on  seventy-four !  But  I  do 
think,  notwithstanding,  that  I  am  not  much  the  better 

1  'Thomas  Carlyle.     The  Man    and  His  Books.'     By  W.    H. 
Wylie.     1 88 1,  p.  363. 


238  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

for  it.  The  Cold  I  had  before  Christmas,  returns,  or 
lurks  about  me  :  and  I  cannot  resolve  on  my  usual 
out-of-door  liberty.  Enough  of  that.  I  suppose  that 
I  shall  have  some  Company  at  Easter;  my  poor 
London  Clerk,  if  he  can  find  no  more  amusing  place 
to  go  to  for  his  short  Holyday ;  probably  Aldis 
Wright,  who  always  comes  into  these  parts  at  these 
Seasons — his  '  Nazione '  being  Beccles.  Perhaps 
also  a  learned  Nephew  of  mine — John  De  Soyres — 
now  Professor  of  some  History  at  Queen's  College, 
London,  may  look  in. 

Did  my  Patron,  Mr.  Schiitz  Wilson,  ever  call  on 
you,  up  to  this  time  ?  I  dare  say,  not ;  for  he  may 
suppose  you  still  out  of  London.  And,  though  I 
have  had  a  little  correspondence  with  him  since,  I 
have  not  said  a  word  about  your  return — nor  about 
yourself.  I  saw  in  my  Athenaeum  or  Academy  that 
Mercutio  did  as  usual.     Have  you  seen  the  Play  ? 

I  conclude  (from  not  hearing  otherwise  from 
Mowbray)  that  his  Father  is  much  as  when  I  saw 
him.  I  do  not  know  if  the  Papers  have  reported 
anything  more  of  Lord  Houghton,  and  I  have  not 
heard  of  him  from  my  few  correspondents. 

But  pray  do  you  tell  me  a  word  about  Mrs. 
Kemble ;  and  beg  her  to  believe  me  ever  the  same 

E.  KG. 


1882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  239 

cm. 

[Spring,  1882.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  scarce  think,  judging  by  my  old  Recorder 
the  Moon,  that  it  is  a  month  since  I  last  wrote  to  you. 
But  not  far  off,  neither.  Be  that  as  it  may,  just  now 
I  feel  inclined  to  tell  you  that  I  lately  heard  from 
Hallam  Tennyson  by  way  of  acknowledgment  of  the 
Programme  of  a  Recital  of  his  Father's  verse  at 
Ipswich,  by  a  quondam  Tailor  there.  This,  as  you 
may  imagine,  I  did  for  fun,  such  as  it  was.  But 
Hallam  replies,  without  much  reference  to  the  Read- 
ing :  but  to  tell  me  how  his  Father  had  a  fit  of  Gout 
in  his  hand  while  he  was  in  London  :  and  therefore 
it  was  that  he  had  not  called  on  you  as  he  had  in- 
tended. Think  of  my  dear  old  Fellow  with  the 
Gout !  In  consequence  of  which  he  was  forbidden 
his  daily  allowance  of  Port  (if  I  read  Hallam's  scrawl 
aright),  which,  therefore,  the  Old  Boy  had  stuck  to 
like  a  fine  Fellow  with  a  constancy  which  few  modern 
Britons  can  boast  of.  This  reminded  me  that  when 
I  was  on  my  last  visit  to  him,  Isle  of  Wight,  1854,  he 
stuck  to  his  Port  (I  do  not  mean  too  much)  and 
asked  me,  who  might  be  drinking  Sherry,  if  I  did  not 
see  that  his  was  '  the  best  Beast  of  the  two.'  So  he 
has  remained  true  to  his  old  Will  Waterproof  Colours 
— and  so  he  was  prevented  from  calling  on  you — his 
hand,  Hallam  says,  swelled  up  like  'a  great  Sponge.' 


24o  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

Ah,  if  he  did  not  live  on  a  somewhat  large  scale,  with 
perpetual  Visitors,  I  might  go  once  more  to  see  him. 

Now,  you  will,  I  know,  answer  me  (unless  your 
hand  be  like  his  ! )  and  then  you  will  tell  me  how  you 
are,  and  how  your  Party  whom  you  were  expecting  at 
Leamington  when  last  you  wrote.  I  take  for  granted 
they  arrived  safe,  in  spite  of  the  Wind  that  a  little 
alarmed  you  at  the  time  of  your  writing.  And  now, 
in  another  month,  you  will  be  starting  to  meet  your 
American  Family  in  Switzerland,  if  the  Scheme  you 
told  me  of  still  hold — with  them,  I  mean.  So,  by  the 
Moon's  law,  I  shall  write  to  you  once  again  before 
you  leave,  and  you — will  once  more  answer ! 

I  shall  say  thus  much  of  myself,  that  I  do  not 
shake  off  the  Cold  and  Cough  that  I  have  had,  off  and 
on,  these  four  months  :  I  certainly  feel  as  if  some  of 
the  internal  timbers  were  shaken  ;  which  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  nor  complained  of.1  Tell  me  how  you 
fare ;  and  believe  me 

Your  sincere  as  ancient 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

1  On  May  7  FitzGerald  wrote  to  me  from  Lowestoft  : 

' '  I  too  am  taking  some  medicine,  which,  whatever  effect  it  has 
on  me,  leaves  an  indelible  mark  on  Mahogany :  for  (of  course)  I 
spilled  a  lot  on  my  Landlady's  Chiffonier,  and  found  her  this  morn- 
ing rubbing  at  the  '  damned  Spot '  with  Turpentine,  and  in  vain." 

And  two  days  later  : 

' '  I  was  to  have  gone  home  to-day  :  but  Worthington  wishes  me 
to  stay,  at  any  rate,  till  the  week's  end,  by  which  time  he  thinks  to 
remove  what  he  calls  '  a  Crepitation  '  in  one  lung,  by  help  of  the 
Medicine  which  proved  its  power  on  the  mahogany.  Yesterday 
came  a  Cabinet-maker,  who  was  for  more  than  half  an  hour  em- 
ployed in  returning  that  to  its  'sound  and  pristine  health,'  or  such 
as  I  hope  my  Landlady  will  be  satisfied  with." 


i882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  241 

I  now  fancy  that  it  must  be  Bentley  who  delays 
your  Book,  till  Ballantine  &  Co.  have  blown  over.1 


CIV. 

Whitmonday,  [May  29//J,  1882.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

Not  full  moon  yet,  but  Whitsun  the  29th  of 
May,'2  and  you  told  me  of  your  expecting  to  be  in 
Switzerland.  And  when  once  you  get  there,  it  is  all 
over  with  full  moons  as  far  as  my  correspondence 
with  you  is  concerned. 

I  heard  from  Mowbray  that  his  Father  had  been 
all  but  lost  to  him  :  but  had  partially  recovered.  Not 
for  long,  I  suppose :  nor  need  I  hope  :  and  this  is  all 
I  will  say  to  you  on  this  subject. 

I  have  now  Charles  Keene  staying  Whitsuntide 
with  me,  and  was  to  have  had  Archdeacon  Groome 
to  meet  him  ;  but  he  is  worn  out  with  Archidiaconal 
Charges,  and  so  cannot  come.  But  C.  K.  and  I 
have  been  out  in  Carriage  to  the  Sea,  and  no  visitor, 
nor  host,  could  wish  for  finer  weather. 

But  this  of  our  dear  Donne  over-clouds  me  a  little, 
as  I  doubt  not  it  does  you.  Mowbray  was  to  have 
come  down  for  three  days  just  now  to  a  Friend  five 
miles  off:  but  of  course — you  know. 

Somehow  I  am  at  a  loss  to  write  to  you  on  such 

1  Serjeant  Ballantine's  '  Experiences  of  a  Barrister's  Life  '  ap- 
peared in  March,  1882. 

2  Full  moon  was  June  1st,  1882. 

16 


242   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1882 

airy  topics  as  usual.  Therefore,  I  shall  simply  ask 
you  to  let  me  know,  in  as  few  lines  as  you  care  to 
write,  when  you  leave  England  :  and  to  believe  me, 
wherever  you  go, 

Your  sincere  Ancient 

E.  F.G. 

CV. 

Woodbridge,  June  24,  [1882.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

You  wrote  me  that  you  had  bidden 
Blanche  to  let  you  know  about  her  Father :  and  this 
I  conclude  that  she,  or  some  of  her  family  have 
done.  Nevertheless,  I  will  make  assurance  doubly 
sure  by  enclosing  you  the  letters  I  received  from 
Mowbray,  according  to  their  dates :  and  will  send 
them — for  once — through  Coutts,  in  hopes  that  he 
may  find  you,  as  you  will  not  allow  me  to  do  without 
his  help.  Of  that  Death1  I  say  nothing  :  as  you  may 
expect  of  me,  and  as  I  should  expect  of  you  also ;  if 
I  may  say  so. 

I  have  been  to  pay  my  annual  Visit  to  George 
Crabbe  and  his  Sisters  in  Norfolk.  And  here  is 
warm  weather  come  to  us  at  last  (as  not  unusual 
after  the  Longest  Day),  and  I  have  almost  parted 
with  my  Bronchial  Cold — though,  as  in  the  old 
Loving  Device  of  the  open  Scissors,  'To  meet  again.' 
I  can  only  wonder  it  is  no  worse  with  me,  consider- 
ing how  my  contemporaries  have  been  afflicted. 
1  W.  B.  Donne  died  June  20th,  1882. 


i882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  243 

I  am  now  reading  Froude's  Carlyle,  which  seems  to 
me  well  done.  Insomuch,  that  I  sent  him  all  the 
Letters  I  had  kept  of  Carlyle's,  to  use  or  not  as  he 
pleased,  etc.  I  do  not  think  they  will  be  needed 
among  the  thousand  others  he  has  :  especially  as  he 
tells  me  that  his  sole  commission  is,  to  edit  Mrs. 
Carlyle's  Letters,  for  which  what  he  has  already  done 
is  preparatory  :  and  when  this  is  completed,  he  will 
add  a  Volume  of  personal  Recollections  of  C.  himself. 
Froude's  Letter  to  me  is  a  curious  one  :  a  sort  of 
vindication  (it  seems  to  me)  of  himself — quite  un- 
called for  by  me,  who  did  not  say  one  word  on  the 
subject.-1     The  job,  he  says,  was  forced  upon  him  :  '  a 

1  This  letter  is  in  my  possession,  and  as  it  indicates  what  Mr. 
Froude's  plan  originally  was,  though  he  afterwards  modified  it,  I 
have  thought  it  worth  while  to  give  it  in  full. 

'  5  Onslow  Gardens,  S.  W. 
'  May  ig. 

4  Dear  Mr.  Fitzgerald, 

'  Certainly  you  are  no  stranger  to  me.  I  have  heard  so 
often  from  Carlyle,  and  I  have  read  so  much  in  his  letters,  about 
your  exertions,  and  about  your  entertainment  of  him  at  various 
times,  that  I  can  hardly  persuade  myself  that  I  never  saw  you. 

'  The  letters  you  speak  of  must  be  very  interesting,  and  I  would 
ask  you  to  let  me  see  them  if  I  thought  that  they  were  likely  to  be 
of  use  to  me ;  but  the  subject  with  which  I  have  to  deal  is  so  vast 
that  I  am  obliged  to  limit  myself,  and  so  intricate  that  I  am  glad 
to  be  able  tc  limit  myself.  I  shall  do  what  Carlyle  desired  me  to 
do,  i.e.  edit  the  collection  of  his  wife's  letters,  which  he  himself  pre- 
pared for  publication. 

*  This  gift  or  bequest  of  his  governs  the  rest  of  my  work.  What 
I  have  already  done  is  an  introduction  to  these  letters.  When  they 
are  published  I  shall  add  a  volume  of  personal  recollections  of  his 
later  life ;  and  this  will  be  all.  Had  I  been  left  unencumbered 
by  special  directions  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  leave  his  domestic 


244  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

hard  problem ' — No  doubt — But  he  might  have  left 
the  Reminiscences  unpublisht,  except  what  related  to 
Mrs.  C. — in  spite  of  Carlyle's  oral  injunction  which 
reversed  his  written.     Enough  of  all  this  ! 

Why  will  you  not  '  initiate '  a  letter  when  you  are 
settled  for  a  while  among  your  Mountains  ?  Oh,  ye 
Medes  and  Persians  !  This  may  be  impertinent  of 
me  :  but  I  am  ever  yours  sincerely 

E.  F.G. 

I  see  your  Book  advertised  as  'ready.' 


CVI.1 


[Augtist,  1882.] 


My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  have  let  the  Full  Moon 2  go  by,  and  very 
well  she  looked,  too — over  the  Sea  by  which  I  am 
now   staying.     Not   at    Lowestoft :    but    at   the   old 

history  untouched  except  on  the  outside,  and  have  attempted  to 
make  a  complete  biography  out  of  the  general  materials.  This  I 
am  unable  to  do,  and  all  that  I  can  give  the  world  will  be  materials 
for  some  other  person  to  use  hereafter.  I  can  explain  no  further 
the  conditions  of  the  problem.  But  for  my  own  share  of  it  I  have 
materials  in  abundance,  and  I  must  avoid  being  tempted  off  into 
other  matters  however  important  in  themselves. 

'  I  may  add  for  myself  that  I  did  not  seek  this  duty,  nor  was  it 
welcome  to  me.  C.  asked  me  to  undertake  it.  When  I  looked 
through  the  papers  I  saw  how  difficult,  how,  in  some  aspects  of  it, 
painful,  the  task  would  be. 

'  Believe  me, 

*  faithfully  yours, 

'  J.  A.  Froude.  ' 

1  Printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  332.  -  July  30th. 


1882]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  245 

extinguished  Borough  of  Aldeburgh,  to  which — as  to 
other  '  premiers  Amours,'  I  revert — where  more  than 
sixty  years  ago  I  first  saw,  and  first  felt,  the  Sea — 
where  I  have  lodged  in  half  the  houses  since ;  and 
where  I  have  a  sort  of  traditional  acquaintance  with 
half  the  population.  '  Clare  Cottage'  is  where  I  write 
from ;  two  little  rooms — enough  for  me — a  poor  civil 
Woman  pleased  to  have  me  in  them — oh,  yes, — and  a 
little  spare  Bedroom  in  which  I  stow  a  poor  Clerk, 
with  his  Legs  out  of  the  window  from  his  bed — 
like  a  Heron's  from  his  nest — but  rather  more 
horizontally.  We  dash  about  in  Boats  whether  Sail 
or  Oar — to  which  latter  I  leave  him  for  his  own  good 
Exercise.  Poor  fellow,  he  would  have  liked  to  tug  at 
that,  or  rough-ride  a  horse,  from  Boyhood :  but  must 
be  made  Clerk  in  a  London  Lawyer's  Office :  and 
so  I  am  glad  to  get  him  down  for  a  Holyday  when 
he  can  get  one,  poor  Fellow ! 

The  Carlyle  '  Reminiscences '  had  long  indisposed 
me  from  taking  up  the  Biography.  But  when  I  began, 
and  as  I  went  on  with  that,  I  found  it  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  Books  :  and  the  result  is  that  I  not 
only  admire  and  respect  Carlyle  more  than  ever  I 
did :  but  even  love  him,  which  I  never  thought  of 
before.  For  he  loved  his  Family,  as  well  as  for  so 
long  helped  to  maintain  them  out  of  very  slender 
earnings  of  his  own  ;  and,  so  far  as  these  two  Volumes 
show  me,  he  loved  his  Wife  also,  while  he  put  her  to 
the  work  which  he  had  been  used  to  see  his  own 
Mother  and  Sisters  fulfil,  and  which  was  suitable  to 


246   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

the  way  of  Life  which  he  had  been  used  to.  His  in- 
difference to  her  sufferings  seems  to  me  rather  because 
of  Blindness  than  Neglect;  and  I  think  his  Biographer 
has  been  even  a  little  too  hard  upon  him  on  the  score 
of  Selfish  disregard  of  her.  Indeed  Mr.  Norton 
wrote  to  me  that  he  looked  on  Froude  as  something 
of  an  Iago  toward  his  Hero  in  respect  of  all  he  has 
done  for  him.  The  publication  of  the  Reminiscences 
is  indeed  a  mystery  to  me  :  for  I  should  [have] 
thought  that,  even  in  a  mercantile  point  of  view,  it 
would  indispose  others,  as  me  it  did,  to  the  Biography. 
But  Iago  must  have  bungled  in  his  work  so  far  as  I, 
for  one,  am  concerned,  if  the  result  is  such  as  I  find 
it — or  unless  I  am  very  obtuse  indeed.  So  I  tell  Mr. 
Norton;  who  is  about  to  edit  Carlyle's  Letters  to 
Emerson,  and  whom  I  should  not  like  to  see  going  to 
his  work  with  such  an  '  Animus '  toward  his  Fellow- 
Editor. 

Yours  always, 
E.  F.G. 
Faites,  s'il  vous  plait,  mes    petits   Compliments  a 
Madame  Wister. 

CVII. 

Aldeburgh  :  Sept.  I,  [1882.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

Still   by  the   Sea — from  which    I    saw   The 
Harvest  Moon  rise   for  her   three   nights'    Fullness. 

1  Printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  333. 


1882]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  247 

And  to-day  is  so  wet  that  I  shall  try  and  pay  you  my 
plenilunal  due — not  much  to  your  satisfaction ;  for 
the  Wet  really  gets  into  one's  Brain  and  Spirits,  and  I 
have  as  little  to  write  of  as  ever  any  Full  Moon  ever 
brought  me.  And  yet,  if  I  accomplish  my  letter,  and 
1  take  it  to  the  Barber's,'  where  I  sadly  want  to  go, 
and,  after  being  wrought  on  by  him,  post  my  letter — 
why,  you  will,  by  your  Laws,  be  obliged  to  answer  it. 
Perhaps  you  may  have  a  little  to  tell  me  of  yourself 
in  requital  for  the  very  little  you  have  to  hear  of  me. 

I  have  made  a  new  Acquaintance  here.  Professor 
Fawcett  (Postmaster  General,  I  am  told)  married  a 
Daughter  of  one  Newson  Garrett  of  this  Place,  who 
is  also  Father  of  your  Doctor  Anderson.  Well,  the 
Professor  (who  was  utterly  blinded  by  the  Discharge 
of  his  Father's  Gun  some  twenty  or  twenty-five  years 
ago)  came  to  this  Lodging  to  call  on  Aldis  Wright ; 
and,  when  Wright  was  gone,  called  on  me,  and  also 
came  and  smoked  a  Pipe  one  night  here.  A 
thoroughly  unaffected,  unpretending,  man  ;  so  modest 
indeed  that  I  was  ashamed  afterwards  to  think  how 
I  had  harangued  him  all  the  Evening,  instead  of 
getting  him  to  instruct  me.  But  I  would  not  ask 
him  about  his  Parliamentary  Shop :  and  I  should 
not  have  understood  his  Political  Economy :  and  I 
believe  he  was  very  glad  to  be  talked  to  instead, 
about  some  of  those  he  knew,  and  some  whom  I  had 
known.  And,  as  we  were  both  in  Crabbe's  Borough, 
we  talked  of  him  :  the  Professor,  who  had  never  read 
a  word,  I  believe,  about  him,  or  of  him,  was  pleased 


248  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

to  hear  a  little ;  and  I  advised  him  to  buy  the  Life 
written  by  Crabbe's  Son ;  and  I  would  give  him  my 
Abstract  of  the  Tales  of  the  Hall,  by  way  of  giving 
him  a  taste  of  the  Poet's  self. 

Yes;  you  must  read  Froude's  Carlyle  above  all 
things,  and  tell  me  if  you  do  not  feel  as  I  do  about  it. 
Professor  Norton  persists1  in  it  that  I  am  proof  against 
Froude's  invidious  insinuations  simply  because  of  my 
having  previously  known  Carlyle.  But  how  is  it  that 
I  did  not  know  that  Carlyle  was  so  good,  grand,  and 
even  loveable,  till  I  read  the  Letters  which  Froude 
now  edits  ?  I  regret  that  I  did  not  know  what  the 
Book  tells  us  while  Carlyle  was  alive ;  that  I  might 
have  loved  him  as  well  as  admired  him.  But  Carlyle 
never  spoke  of  himself  in  that  way :  I  never  heard 
him  advert  to  his  Works  and  his  Fame,  except  one 
day  he  happened  to  mention  '  About  the  time  when 
Men  began  to  talk  of  me.' 

I  do  not  know  if  I  told  you  in  my  last  that  (as  you 
foretold  me  would  be  the  case)  I  did  not  find  your 
later  Records  so  interesting  as  the  earlier.  Not  from 
any  falling  off  of  the  recorder,  but  of  the  material. 

The  two  dates  of  this  Letter  arise  from  my  having 
written  this  second  half-sheet  so  badly  that  I  resolved 
to  write  it  over  again — I  scarce  know  whether  for 
better  or  worse.  I  go  home  this  week,  expecting 
Charles  Keene  at  Woodbridge  for  a  week.  Please  to 
believe  me  (with  Compliments  to  Mrs.  Wister) 
Yours  sincerely  always 

E.  F.G. 

1  Here  begins  second  half-sheet,  dated  'Monday,  Sept.  5.' 


\2\  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  249 


CVIII.1 

Woodbridge  :  Oct.   17,  [1882.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

I  suppose  that  you  are  returned  from  the 
Loire  by  this  time ;  but  as  I  am  not  sure  that  you 
have  returned  to  the  '  Hotel  des  Deux  Mondes,' 
whence  you  dated  your  last,  I  make  bold  once  more 
to  trouble  Coutts  with  adding  your  Address  to  my 
Letter.  I  think  I  shall  have  it  from  yourself  not  long 
after.  I  shall  like  to  hear  a  word  about  my  old 
France,  dear  to  me  from  childish  associations ;  and 
in  particular  of  the  Loire  endeared  to  me  by  Sevigne 
— for  I  never  saw  the  glimmer  of  its  Waters  myself. 
If  you  were  in  England  I  should  send  you  an  account 
of  a  tour  there,  written  by  a  Lady  in  1833 — written 
in  the  good  old  way  of  Ladies'  writing,  without  any 
of  the  smartness,  and  not  too  much  of  the  '  graphic ' 
of  later  times.  Did  you  look  at  Les  Rochers,  which, 
I  have  read,  is  not  to  be  looked  into  by  the  present 
owner  ? 2 

Now  for  my  'Story,  God  bless  you,'  etc.,  you  may 
guess  where  none  is  to  be  told.  Only,  my  old  House- 
keeper here  has  been  bedded  for  this  last  month,  an 
illness  which  has  caused  her  great  pain,  and  at  one 
time  seemed  about  to  make  an  End  of  her.  So  it  may 
do  still :  but  for  the  last  few  days  she  has  suffered  less 

1  Partly  printed  in  '  Letters,'  ii.  335. 

2  See  letter  of  June  23rd,  1880. 


250  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

pain,  and  so  we — hope.  This  has  caused  much 
trouble  in  my  little  household,  as  you  may  imagine — 
as  well  on  our  own  account,  as  on  hers. 

Mowbray  Donne  wrote  me  that  his  Edith  had  been 
seriously — I  know  not  if  dangerously— ill;  and  he 
himself  much  out  of  sorts,  having  never  yet  (he  says, 
and  I  believe)  recovered  from  his  Father's  death. 
Blanche,  for  the  present,  is  quartered  at  Friends'  and 
Kinsfolk's  houses. 

Aldis  Wright  has  sent  me  a  Photograph,  copied 
from  Mrs.  Cameron's  original,  of  James  Spedding — 
so  fine  that  I  know  not  whether  I  feel  more  pleasure 
or  pain  in  looking  at  it.  When  you  return  to  England, 
you  shall  see  it  somehow. 

I  have  had  a  letter  or  two  from  Annie  Ritchie,  who 
is  busy  writing  various  Articles  for  Magazines.  One 
concerning  Miss  Edgevvorth  in  the  Cornhill  is  pleasant 
reading.1  She  tells  me  that  Tennyson  is  at  Aldworth 
(his  Hampshire  house,  you  know),  and  a  notice  in 
Athenaeum  or  Academy  tells  that  he  is  about  to 
produce  'a  Pastoral  Drama'  at  one  of  the  smaller 
Theatres  ! 2 

You  may  have  seen — but  more  probably  have  not 
seen — how  Mr.  Irving  and  Co.  have  brought  out 
1  Much  Ado '  with  all  eclat 

It  seems  to  me  (but  I  believe  it  seems  so  every 
year)  that  our  trees  keep  their  leaves  very  long ;   I 

1  Reprinted  in  '  A  Book  of  Sibyls,'  1883. 

2  The  Promise  of  May  was  acted  at  the  Globe  Theatre,  November 
nth,  1882. 


1882]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  251 

suppose  because  of  no  severe  frosts  or  winds  up  to 
this  time.  And  my  garden  still  shows  some  Geranium, 
Salvia,  Nasturtium,  Great  Convolvulus,  and  that  grand 
African  Marigold  whose  Colour  is  so  comfortable  to 
us  Spanish-like  Paddies.1  I  have  also  a  dear  Oleander 
which  even  now  has  a  score  of  blossoms  on  it,  and 
touches  the  top  of  my  little  Greenhouse — having  been 
sent  me  when  'haut  comme  9a/  as  Marquis  Some- 
body used  to  say  in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV.  Don't 
you  love  the  Oleander  ?  So  clean  in  its  leaves  and 
stem,  as  so  beautiful  in  its  flower ;  loving  to  stand  in 
water,  which  it  drinks  up  so  fast.  I  rather  worship 
mine. 

Here  is  pretty  matter  to  get  Coutts  to  further  on 
to  Paris— to  Mrs.  Kemble  in  Paris.  And  I  have 
written  it  all  in  my  best  MS.  with  a  pen  that  has 
been  held  with  its  nib  in  water  for  more  than  a 
fortnight — Charles  Keene's  recipe  for  keeping  Pens 
in  condition — Oleander-like. 

Please  to  make  my  Compliments  to  Mrs.  Wister — 
my  good  wishes  to  the  young  Musician;2  and  pray 
do  you  believe  me  your  sincere  as  ever — in  spite  of 
his  new  name — 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

1  See  letter  of  November  13th,  1879. 

2  Mrs.  Wister's  son. 


252  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1882 

CIX. 

[Nov.,  1882.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

You  must  be  homeward-bound  by  this  time, 
I  think  :  but  I  hope  my  letter  won't  light  upon  you 
just  when  you  are  leaving  Paris,  or  just  arriving  in 
London — perhaps  about  to  see  Mrs.  Wister  off  to 
America  from  Liverpool  !  But  you  will  know  very 
well  how  to  set  my  letter  aside  till  some  better  oppor- 
tunity. May  Mrs.  Wister  fare  well  upon  her  Voyage 
over  the  Atlantic,  and  find  all  well  when  she  reaches 
her  home. 

I  have  been  again — twice  or  thrice — to  Aldeburgh, 
when  my  contemporary  eld  Beauty  Mary  Lynn  was 
staying  there ;  and  pleasant  Evenings  enough  we  had, 
talking  of  other  days,  and  she  reading  to  me  some  of 
her  Mudie  Books,  finishing  with  a  nice  little  Supper, 
and  some  hot  grog  (for  me)  which  I  carried  back  to 
the  fire,  and  set  on  the  carpet}  She  read  me  (for  one 
thing)  '  Marjorie  Fleming'  from  a  Volume  of  Dr. 
Brown's  Papers2 — read  it  as  well  as  she  could  for 
laughing — '  idiotically,'  she  said — but  all  the  better  to 
my  mind.  She  had  been  very  dismal  all  day,  she 
said.  Pray  get  some  one  to  read  you  '  Marjorie  ' — 
which  I  say,  because  (as  I  found)  it  agrees  with  one 
best  in  that  way.     If  only  for  dear  Sir  Walter's  sake, 

1  See  letter  of  March  28th,  1880. 

2  'John  Leech  and  other  Papers,'  1882. 


1882]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  253 

who  doated  on  the  Child ;  and  would  not  let  his 
Twelfth  Night  be  celebrated  till  she  came  through 
the  Snow  in  a  Sedan  Chair,  where  (once  in  the  warm 
Hall)  he  called  all  his  Company  down  to  see  her 
nestling  before  he  carried  her  upstairs  in  his  arms. 
A  very  pretty  picture.  My  old  Mary  said  that  Mr. 
Anstey's  '  Vice  Versa '  made  her  and  a  friend,  to 
whom  she  read  it,  laugh  idiotically  too  :  but  I  could 
not  laugh  over  it  alone,  very  clever  as  it  is.  And 
here  is  enough  of  me  and  Mary. 

Devrient's  Theory  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  (which 
you  wrote  me  of)  I  cannot  pretend  to  judge  of:  what 
he  said  of  the  Englishwomen,  to  whom  the  Imogens, 
Desdemonas,  etc.,  were  acceptable,  seems  to  me  well 
said.  I  named  it  to  Aldis  Wright  in  a  letter,  but 
what  he  thinks  on  the  subject — surely  no  otherwise 
than  Mrs.  Kemble — I  have  not  yet  heard.  My  dear 
old  Alfred's  Pastoral  troubles  me  a  little — that  he 
should  have  exposed  himself  to  ridicule  in  his  later 
days.  Yet  I  feel  sure  that  his  aim  is  a  noble  one ; 
and  there  was  a  good  notice  in  the  Academy l  saying 
there  was  much  that  was  fine  in  the  Play — nay,  that 
a  whole  good  Play  might  yet  be  made  of  it  by  some 
better  Playwright's  practical  Skill. 

And  here  is  the  end  of  my  paper,  before  I  have 
said  something  else  that  I  had  to  say.  But  you  have 
enough  for  the  present  from  your  ancient  E.  F.G. — 
who  has  been  busy  arranging  some  '  post  mortem ; 
papers. 

1  November  i8th,  1882. 


254  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1883 


CX. 

Woodbridge:  Marc/16,  [1883.] 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble, 

I  have  asked  more  than  one  person  for 
tidings  of  you,  for  the  last  two  months  :  and  only- 
yesterday  heard  from  M.  Donne  that  he  had  seen  you 
at  the  Address  to  which  I  shall  direct  this  letter.  I 
wrote  to  you  about  mid-November,  desiring  Coutts  to 
forward  my  letter :  in  which  I  said  that  if  you  were  in 
no  mood  to  write  during  the  time  of  Mrs.  Wister's 
departure  for  America  (which  you  had  told  me  was  to 
be  November  end)  you  were  not  to  trouble  yourself 
at  all.  Since  which  time  I  have  really  not  known 
whether  you  had  not  gone  off  to  America  too.  Any- 
how, I  thought  better  to  wait  till  I  had  some  token 
of  your  '  whereabout,'  if  nothing  more.  And  now 
Mowbray  tells  me  that  much,  and  I  will  venture 
another  Letter  to  you  after  so  long  an  interval.  You 
must  always  follow  your  own  inclination  as  to  answer- 
ing me — not  by  any  means  make  a  '  Duty '  of  it. 

As  usual  I  have  nothing  to  say  of  myself  but  what 
you  have  heard  from  me  for  years.  Only  that  my 
(now  one  year  old)  friend  Bronchitis  has  thus  far 
done  but  little  more  than  to  keep  me  aware  that  he 
has  not  quitted  me,  nor  even  thinks  of  so  doing. 
Nay,  this  very  day,  when  the  Snow  which  held  off  all 
winter  is  now  coming  down  under  stress  of  N.E. 
wind,  I  feel  my  friend  stirring  somewhat  within. 


1883]  TO    FANNY   KEMBLE  255 

Enough  of  that  and  of  myself.  Mowbray  gives  me 
a  very  good  report  of  you — Absit  Nemesis  for  my 
daring  to  write  it ! — And  you  have  got  back  to  some- 
thing of  our  old  London  Quarters,  which  I  always 
look  to  as  better  than  the  new.  And  do  you  go  to 
even  a  Play,  in  the  old  Quarters  also  ?  Wright,  who 
was  with  me  at  Christmas,  was  taken  by  Macmillan 
to  see  '  Much  Ado,'  and  found,  all  except  Scenery, 
etc.  (which  was  too  good)  so  bad  that  he  vowed  he 
would  never  go  to  see  Sh.  '  at  any  of  your  Courts ' 
again.  Irving  without  any  Humour,  Miss  Terry  with 
simply  Animal  Spirits,  etc.  However,  Wright  did 
intend  once  more  to  try — Comedy  of  Errors,  at  some 
theatre ;  but  how  he  liked  it — I  may  hear  if  he  comes 
to  me  at  Easter. 

Now  this  is  enough — is  it  not? — for  a  letter  :  but 
I  am  as  always 

Sincerely  yours, 

E.  F.G. 


CXI. 

Woodbridge  :  April  12,  [1883.] 

My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

I  do  not  think  you  will  be  sorry  that  more 
than  a  Moon  has  waxed  and  waned  since  last  I  wrote 
to  you.  For  you  have  seen  long  enough  how  little 
I  had  to  tell,  and  that  nevertheless  you  were  bound 
to  answer.  But  all  such  Apologies  are  stale  :  you 
will  believe,  I  hope,  that  I  remain  as  I  was  in  regard 


256  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1883 

to  you,  as  I  shall  believe  that  you  are  the  same 
toward  me. 

Mowbray  Donne  has  told  me  two  months  ago  that 
he  could  not  get  over  the  Remembrance  of  last  May ; 
and  that,  acting  on  Body  as  well  as  Mind,  aged  him, 
I  suppose,  as  you  saw.  Mowbray  is  one  of  the  most 
loyal  men  toward  Kinsman  and  Friend. 

Now  for  my  own  little  Budget  of  News.  I  got 
through  those  Sunless  East  winds  well  enough :  better 
than  I  am  feeling  now  they  both  work  together.  I 
think  the  Wind  will  rule  till  Midsummer  :  '  Enfin  tant 
qu'il  plaira  a  Dieu.'  Aldis  Wright  was  with  me  for 
Easter,  and  we  went  on  our  usual  way,  together  or 
apart.  Professor  Norton  had  sent  me  his  Carlyle- 
Emerson  Correspondence,  which  we  conned  over 
together,  and  liked  well  on  either  side.  Carlyle 
should  not  have  said  (and  still  less  Norton  printed) 
that  Tennyson  was  a  '  gloomy '  Soul,  nor  Thackeray 
'  of  inordinate  Appetite,'  neither  of  which  sayings  is 
true :  nor  written  of  Lord  Houghton  as  a  '  Robin 
Redbreast '  of  a  man.  I  shall  wait  very  patiently  till 
Mudie  sends  me  Jane  Carlyle — where  I  am  told  there 
is  a  word  of  not  unkindly  toleration  of  me ;  which,  if 
one  be  named  at  all,  one  may  be  thankful  for.1 

Here  are  two  Questions  to  be  submitted  to  Mrs. 
Kemble  by  Messrs.  Aldis  Wright  and  Littlegrange — 
viz.,  What  she  understands  by — 

(1.)   '  The  Raven  himself  is  hoarse,'  etc. 

(2.)  '  But  this  eternal  Blazon  must  not  be,'  etc. 

See  '  Letters  and  Memorials  of  Jane  Welsh'Carlyle, '  ii.  249. 


1 883]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  257 

Mrs.  Kemble  (who  will  answer  my  letter)  can  tell 
me  how  she  fares  in  health  and  well-being ;  yes,  and 
if  she  has  seen,  or  heard,  anything  of  Alfred  Tenny- 
son, who  is  generally  to  be  heard  of  in  London  at 
this  time  of  year.  And  pray  let  Mrs.  Kemble  believe 
in  the  Writer  of  these  poor  lines  as  her  ancient,  and 
loyal,  Subject 

E.  F.G. 

'  The  raven  himself  is  hoarse,'  etc. 

"  Lady  Macbeth  compares  the  Messenger,  hoarse  for  lack  of 
Breath,  to  a  raven  whose  croaking  was  held  to  be  prophetic 
of  Disaster.  This  we  think  the  natural  interpretation  of  the 
words,  though  it  is  rejected  by  some  Commentators." — Clark 
and  Wright's  Clarendon  Press  Shakespeare. 

"'Eternal  Blazon '  =  revelation  of  Eternity.  It  may  be, 
however,  that  Sh.  uses  '  eternal '  for  '  infernal '  here,  as  in  Julius 
Casar  I.  2,  160  :  '  The  eternal  Devil '  ;  and  Othello  IV.  2,  130 : 
'  Some  eternal  villain.'  'Blazon  '  is  an  heraldic  term,  meaning 
Description  of  armorial  bearings,*  hence  used  for  description 
generally;  as  in  Much  Ado  II.  1,  307.  The  veib  'blazon' 
occurs  in  Cymbeline  IV.  2,  170." — J  bid. 

Thus  have  I  written  out  in  my  very  best  hand  :  as 
I  will  take  care  to  do  in  future ;  for  I  think  it  very 
bad  manners  to  puzzle  anyone — and  especially  a 
Lady — with  that  which  is  a  trouble  to  read ;  and  I 
really  had  no  idea  that  I  have  been  so  guilty  of  doing 
so  to  Mrs.  Kemble. 

Also  I  beg  leave  to  say  that  nothing  in  Mowbray's 
letter  set  me  off  writing  again  to  Mrs.  Kemble,  except 
her  Address,  which  I  knew  not  till  he  gave  it  to  me, 
and  I  remain  her  very  humble  obedient  Servant, 

The  Laird  of  Littlegrange — 

17 


258   LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1883 

of  which  I  enclose  a  side  view  done  by  a  Woodbridge 
Artisan  for  his  own  amusement.  So  that  Mrs.  Kemble 
may  be  made  acquainted  with  the  ' habitat*  of  the 
Flower — which  is  about  to  make  an  Omelette  for  its 
Sunday  Dinner. 

N.B. — The  'Raven'  is  not  he  that  reports  the  news 
to  Miladi  M.,  but  'one  of  my  fellows  Who  almost 
dead  for  breath,  etc' 

*  Not,  as  E.  F.G.  had  thought,  the  Bearings  them- 
selves. 


CXII. 

[May,  1883.] 

My  dear  Lady, 

I  conclude  (from  what  you  wrote  me  in 
your  last  letter)  that  you  are  at  Leamington  by  this 
time ;  and  I  will  venture  to  ask  a  word  of  you  before 
you  go  off  to  Switzerland,  and  I  shall  have  to  rely  on 
Coutts  &  Co.  for  further  Correspondence  between  us. 
I  am  not  sure  of  your  present  Address,  even  should 
you  be  at  Leamington — not  sure — but  yet  I  think  my 
letter  will  find  you — and,  if  it  do  not— why,  then  you 
will  be  saved  the  necessity  of  answering  it. 

I  had  written  to  Mowbray  Donne  to  ask  about 
himself  and  his  Wife  :  and  herewith  I  enclose  his 
Answer — very  sad,  and  very  manly.  You  shall  return 
it  if  you  please ;  for  I  set  some  store  by  it. 

Now  I  am  reading — have   almost   finished— Jane 


1883]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  259 

Carlyle's  Letters.  I  dare  say  you  have  already  heard 
them  more  than  enough  discussed  in  London ;  and 
therefore  I  will  only  say  that  it  is  at  any  rate  fine  of 
old  Carlyle  to  have  laid  himself  so  easily  open  to 
public  Rebuke,  though  whether  such  Revelations  are 
fit  for  Publicity  is  another  question.  At  any  rate,  it 
seems  to  me  that  half her  letters,  and  all  his  ejacula- 
tions of  Remorse  summed  up  in  a  Preface,  would 
have  done  better.  There  is  an  Article  by  brave  Mrs. 
Oliphant  in  this  month's  Contemporary  Review  l  (or 
Magazine)  well  worth  reading  on  the  subject ;  with 
such  a  Challenge  to  Froude  as  might  almost  be 
actionable  in  Law.  We  must  '  hear  both  sides,'  and 
wait  for  the  Volume  which  [is]  to  crown  all  his 
Labours  in  this  Cause. 

I  think  your  Leamington  Country  is  more  in  Leaf 
than  ours  '  down-East : '  which  only  just  begins  to 
'  stand  in  a  mist  of  green.' 2  By  the  by,  I  lately  heard 
from  Hallam  Tennyson  that  all  his  Party  were  well 
enough ;  not  having  been  to  London  this  Spring 
because  Alfred's  Doctor  had  warned  him  against 
London  Fogs,  which  suppress  Perspiration,  and  bring 
up  Gout.  Which  is  the  best  piece  of  news  in  my 
Letter ;  and  I  am 

Yours  always  and  a  Day 

E.  F.G. 

P.S.  I  do  not  enclose  Mowbray's  letter,  as  I  had 
intended  to  do,  for  fear  of  my  own  not  finding  you. 

1  For  May,  1883  :  '  Mrs.  Carlyle.' 

2  Tennyson's  '  Brook.' 


26o  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD  [1883 


CXIII. 

[May,  1883.] 

My  dear  Lady  ; 

Stupid  me  !  And  now,  after  a  little  hunt, 
I  find  poor  Mowbray's  Letter,  which  I  had  made  sure 
of  having  sent  you.  But  I  should  not  now  send  it 
if  I  did  not  implore  you  not  to  write  in  case  you 
thought  fit  to  return  it ;  which  indeed  I  did  ask  you 
to  do ;  but  now  I  would  rather  it  remained  with 
you,  who  will  acknowledge  all  the  true  and  brave  in 
it  as  well  as  I — yes,  it  may  be  laid,  if  you  please, 
even  among  those  of  your  own  which  you  tell  me 
Mowbray's  Father  saved  up  for  you.  If  you  return 
it,  let  it  be  without  a  word  of  your  own :  and  pray  do 
not  misunderstand  me  when  I  say  that.  You  will 
hear  of  me  (if  Coutts  be  true)  when  you  are  among 
your  Mountains  again ;  and,  if  you  do  hear  of  me,  I 
know  you  will — for  you  must — reply. 

At  last  some  feeling  of  Spring — a  month  before 
Midsummer.  And  next  week  I  am  expecting  my 
grave  Friend  Charles  Keene,  of  Punch,  to  come  here 
for  a  week — bringing  with  him  his  Bagpipes,  and  an 
ancient  Viol,  and  a  Book  of  Strathspeys  and  Madrigals ; 
and  our  Archdeacon  will  come  to  meet  him,  and  to 
talk  over  ancient  Music  and  Books  :  and  we  shall  all 
three  drive  out  past  the  green  hedges,  and  heaths 
with  their  furze  in  blossom — and  I  wish— yes,  I  do — 
that  you  were  of  the  Party. 


1883]  TO    FANNY    KEMBLE  261 

I  love  all  Southey,  and  all  that  he  does ;  and  love 
that  Correspondence  of  his  with  Caroline  Bowles. 
We  (Boy  and  I)  have  been  reading  an  account  of 
Zetland,  which  makes  me  thirst  for  'The  Pirate' 
again — tiresome,  I  know,  more  than  half  of  it — but 
what  a  Vision  it  leaves  behind  ! l 

Now,  Madam,  you  cannot  pretend  that  you  have 
to  jump  at  my  meaning  through  my  MS.  I  am  sure 
it  is  legible  enough,  and  that  I  am  ever  yours 

E.  F.G. 

You  write  just  across  the  Address  you  date  from  ; 
but  I  jump  at  that  which  I  shall  direct  this  Letter  by. 

CXIV. 

Woodbridge,  May  27/83. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Kemble  : 

I  feel  minded  to  write  you  a  word  of  Farewell 
before  you  start  off  for  Switzerland  :  but  I  do  not 
think  it  will  be  very  welcome  to  you  if,  as  usual,  you 
feel  bound  to  answer  it  on  the  Eve  of  your  Departure. 
Why  not  let  me  hear  from  you  when  you  are  settled 
for  a  few  days  somewhere  among  your  Mountains  ? 

1  In  a  letter  to  Sir  Frederick  Pollock,  March  i6th,  1879,  he 
says : — 

"  I  have  had  Sir  Walter  read  to  me  first  of  a  Night,  by  way  of 
Drama ;  then  ten  minutes  for  Refreshment ;  and  then  Dickens  for 
Farce.  Just  finished  the  Pirate — as  wearisome  for  Nomas,  Minnas, 
Brendas,  etc.,  as  any  of  the  Scotch  Set;  but  when  the  Common 
People  have  to  talk,  the  Pirates  to  quarrel  and  swear,  then  Author 
and  Reader  are  at  home  ;  and  at  the  end  I  '  fare '  to  like  this  one 
the  best  of  the  Series.  The  Sea  scenery  has  much  to  do  with  this 
preference  I  dare  say." 


262  LETTERS  OF  EDWARD   FITZGERALD  [1883 

I  was  lately  obliged  to  run  to  London  on  a  dis- 
agreeable errand  :  which,  however,  got  itself  over  soon 
after  midday ;  when  I  got  into  a  Cab  to  Chelsea,  for 
the  purpose  of  seeing  Carlyle's  Statue  on  the  Embank- 
ment, and  to  take  a  last  look  at  his  old  House  in 
Cheyne  Row.  The  Statue  very  good,  I  thought, 
though  looking  somewhat  small  for  want  of  a  good 
Background  to  set  it  off:  but  the  old  House!  Shut 
up — neglected — '  To  Let ' — was  sad  enough  to  me. 
I  got  back  to  Woodbridge  before  night.1 

Since  then  I  have  had  Charles  Keene  (who  has 
not  been  well)  staying  with  me  here  for  ten  days. 
He  is  a  very  good  Guest,  inasmuch  as  he  entertains 
himself  with  Books,  and  Birds'-nests,  and  an  ancient 
Viol  which  he  has  brought  down  here  :  as  also  a 
Bagpipe  (his  favourite  instrument),  only  leaving  the 
'  Bag '  behind  :  he  having  to  supply  its  functions  from 
his  own  lungs.  But  he  will  leave  me  to-morrow  or 
next  day ;  and  with  June  will  come  my  two  Nieces 
from  Lowestoft :  and  then  the  Longest  Day  will  come, 
and  we  shall  begin  declining  toward  Winter  again, 
after  so  shortly  escaping  from  it. 

This  very  morning  I  receive  The  Diary  of  John 
Ward,  Vicar  of  Stratford  on  Avon  from  1648  to  1679 
— with  some  notices  of  W.  S.  which  you  know  all 
about.     And  I  am  as  ever 

Sincerely  yours 

LlTTLEGRANGE. 

Is  not  this  Letter  legible  enough  ? 
1  See  '  Letters,'  ii.  344. 


INDEX 


A. 


Academy  (Royal),  pictures  at,  50. 
Aconites,     "New   Year's    Gifts,' 

210,  230. 
Aide(H.),  202. 
Anstey's  'Vice  Versa,'  253. 
Arkwright  (Mrs.),  88. 
Autumn  colours,  113. 


B. 


Bagehot's  Essays,  170. 

Barton  (Bernard),  174. 

Basselin  (Olivier),  quoted,  23. 

Beard  (Dr. ),  49. 

Belvidere  Hat,  163. 

BeYanger,  20-23. 

Beuve  (Sainte),  Causeries,  41,  54. 

Blackbird  v.  Nightingale,  47. 

Blakesley  (J.  W.),  Dean  of  Lincoln, 

79,  232. 
Boccaccio,  118. 
Brown  (Dr.  John),  252. 
Burns,   compared  with  BeYanger, 

21-23  I  quoted,  37. 
Burrows  (General),   his  defeat  by 

Ayoub  Khan,  193. 

C. 

Calderon,  64,  66,  185. 

Candide,  174. 

Carlyle   (T.),    17;    forwards    Mr. 

Ruskin's  letter  to  E.   E.G.,  20; 

his  Kings  of  Norway,  62,  66 ; 

presented    with    a   Medal    and 


Address  on  his  80th  birthday, 
89,  92  ;  vehement  against  Dar- 
win and  the  Turk,  in;  on  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  131 ;  is  reading 
Shakespeare  and  Bos  well's  He- 
brides, 170  ;  becomes  very  feeble, 
203;  is  buried  at  Ecclefechan, 
206,  207 ;  his  Reminiscences, 
215,  217 ;  his  Letters  to  Emer- 
son, 246,  256. 
Carlyle  (Mrs.),  her  Letters,   25b, 

259- 
Carlyle  (Mrs.  Alexander),  163,  170, 

186,  206,  215,  221. 
Chateaubriand's  father,  60. 
Chorley  (H.    F.),   his   death,   ir. 

Life  of,  39,  54. 
Gierke  Saunders,  164. 
Coriolanus,  140. 
Corneille,  74. 

Country  Church,  Scene  in,  47. 
Cowell  (Professor),  155. 
Crabbe  (G.),  the  Poet,  quoted,  39, 
44.    56.     119;    his    portrait   by 
Pickersgill,  40,   150  ;  article  on 
him   in    the   Cornhill,    59;    his 
fancy   quickened   by  a    fall    of 
snow,  197. 
Crabbe  (George),   Vicar  of  Bred- 
field,  the  poet's  son,  44. 
Crabbe  (George),  Rector  of  Mer- 
ton,   the  poet's  grandson,  202, 
225. 

D. 

Deffand  (Madame  du),  54. 
De     Quincey     (T. ),  '   on     Janus 
Weathercock,  90. 


264 


INDEX 


Derby  Day,  186. 

De  Soyres  (John),  E.  F.G.'s 
nephew,  238. 

De  Soyres  (Mrs.),  E.  F.G.'s  sister, 
her  death,  168. 

Devrient,  his  Theory  of  Shake- 
speare's Sonnets,  253. 

Dickens  (Charles),  70;  E.  F.G.'s 
admiration  for  him,  52,  127 ; 
his  passion  for  colours,  55. 

Donne  (Blanche),  49,  112,  149. 

Donne  (Charles),  96,  113,  132. 

Donne  (Mrs.  Charles),  her  death, 
107. 

Donne  (Mowbray),  10,  30,  40,  63, 
86,  96,  113,  140,  185,  193,  195, 
199,  206,  207,  212,  223,  226, 
241,  258,  260;  visits  E.  F.G., 
87. 

Donne  (Valentia),  6,  18,  112,  161, 
199 ;  her  marriage,  128. 

Donne  (W.  B. ),  mentioned,  3,  4,  6, 
8,  18,  49,  61,  65,  79,  99,  103,  112, 
122,  181,  207,  212,  223,  226,  228, 
241  ;  his  Lectures,  10  ;  his  ill- 
ness, 36,  38,  40,  42 ;  retires 
from  his  post  as  Licenser  of 
Plays,  48,  51 ;  his  successor,  51 ; 
reviews  Macready's  Memoirs, 
76;  his  death,  242. 

Ducis,  218. 

Dunwich,  139. 


E. 


Eastern  Question  (the),  118. 
Eckermann,    a  German    Boswell, 

155- 

Edwards  (Edwin),  139,  140,  158  ; 
his  death,  155  ;  exhibition  of 
his  pictures,  166,  168,  169. 

Elio  (F.  J.),  121. 

Elliot  (Sir  Gilbert),   pastoral    by, 

83- 
Euphranor,  66. 


FitzGerald  ( Edward ),  parts  with  his 
yacht,  3  ;  his  reader's  mistakes, 


4  ;  his  house  at  Woodbridge,  8  ; 
his  unwillingness  to  have  visitors, 
8,  9;  his  mother,  11;  reads 
Hawthorne's  Notes  of  Italian 
Travel,  12 ;  Memoirs  of  Har- 
ness, 13 ;  cannot  read  George 
Eliot,  15,  39,  171  ;  his  love  for 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  15,  228  ;  visits 
his  brother  Peter,  16  ;  on  the 
art  of  being  photographed,  25, 
26 ;  reads  Walpole,  Wesley,  and 
Boswell's  Johnson,  28  ;  in  Paris 
1111830,31 ;  cannot  read  Goethe's 
Faust,  32,  125;  reads  Ste. 
Beuve's  Causeries,  41,  and  Don 
Quixote,  41,  46  ;  has  a  skeleton 
of  his  own,  bronchitis,  46,  48, 
76;  goes  to  Scotland,  49,  50; 
to  the  Academy,  50  ;  reads 
Dickens,  52;  Crabbe,  55;  con- 
denses the  Tales  of  the  Hall, 
60,  65,  119  ;  death  of  his  brother 
Peter,  64 ;  translations  from 
Calderon,  64 ;  tries  to  read  Gil 
Bias  and  La  Fontaine,  67 ; 
admires  Corneille,  74 ;  reads 
Madame  de  Se\'igne\  74  ;  writes 
to  Notes  and  Queries,  83 ;  begins 
to  'smell  the  ground,' 84;  his 
recollections  of  Paris,  85  ;  reads 
Mrs.  Trollope's  'A  Charming 
Fellow,'  96;  on  framing  pictures, 
97,  100,  103,  107  ;  translation  of 
the  Agamemnon,  98,  104,  108, 
112;  meets  Macready,  104;  his 
Lugger  Captain,  105,  116,  118; 
prefers  the  Second  Part  of  Don 
Quixote,  109 ;  scissors  and  paste 
his  '  Harp  and  Lute, '  127 ;  reads 
Dickens'  Great  Expectations, 
127;  on  nightingales;  wished  to 
dedicate  Agamemnon  to  Mrs. 
Kemble,  130  ;  reads  The  Heart 
of  MidLothian,  131  ;  Catullus, 
135 ;  Guy  Mannering,  137  ;  at 
Dunwich,  139;  reads  Corio- 
lanus,  140 ;  Kenilworth,  145 ; 
David  Copperfield,  145 ;  his 
Readings  in  Crabbe,  147,  150 ; 
reads     Hawthorne's    Journals, 


INDEX 


265 


153  ;  at  Lowestoft,  155 ;  reads 
Forster's  Life  of  Dickens,  155  ; 
and  Trollope's  Novels,  155, 
171 ;  Eckermann's  Goethe,  155  ; 
works  on  Crabbe's  Posthumous 
Tales,  164 ;  his  Quarter-deck, 
167 ;  Dombey  and  Son,  172, 
186,  187  ;  Comus  and  Lycidas, 
178  ;  Mrs.  Kemble's  Records, 
186;  Madame  de  SeVign6,  186, 
188  ;  visits  George  Crabbe  at 
Merton,  188,  242;  his  ducks  and 
chickens,  189  ;  his  Irish  cousins, 
190 ;  at  Aldeburgh,  190  ;  with 
his  nieces  at  Lowestoft,  195  ; 
sends  Charles  Tennyson's  Son- 
nets to  Mrs.  Kemble,  198  ;  his 
eyes  out  of  '  Kelter,'  202,  206  ; 
reads  Winter's  Tale,  203  ;  his 
translations  of  the  two  Gidipus 
plays,  205,  207,  209 ;  his  affec- 
tion for  the  stage,  210  ;  his  col- 
lection of  actors'  portraits,  210  ; 
his  love  for  Spedding,  212  ;  his 
reminiscences  of  a  visit  with 
Tennyson  at  Mirehouse,  214 ; 
reads  Wordsworth,  217  ;  sends 
his  reader  to  see  Macbeth,  231  ; 
feels  as  if  some  of  the  internal 
timbers  were  shaken,  240 ;  reads 
Froude's  Carlyle,  243,  245,  248  ; 
at  Aldeburgh,  244,  246 ;  meets 
Professor  Fawcett,  247  ;  con- 
sults Mrs.  Kemble  on  two  pas- 
sages of  Shakespeare,  257  ;  goes 
to  look  at  Carlyle's  statue  and 
his  old  house,  262. 

FitzGerald  (Jane),  afterwards  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  E.  F.G.'s  sister,  113, 
123. 

FitzGerald  (J. P.),  E.  F.G.'s  eldest 
brother,  96,  101 ;  his  illness, 
141,  144;  and  death,  149. 

FitzGerald  (Mrs.),  E.  F.G.'s 
mother,  11,  62,  97;  her  portrait 
by  Sir  T.  Lawrence,  177. 

FitzGerald  (Percy),  his  Lives  of  the 
Kembles,  5,  6. 

FitzGerald  (Peter),  E.  F.G.'s 
brother,  16;  his  death,  64. 


Frere(Mrs.),  83,  88,  181. 

Froude  (J.  A.),  constantly  with 
Carlyle,  203  ;  is  charged  with 
his  biography,  207  ;  his  Life  of 
Carlyle,  243  ;  writes  to  E.  F.G., 

243- 
Fualdes,     murder     of,     85 ;    play 

founded  on,  90. 
Furness  (H.  H.),  6r,  65,  67,  102. 


Gil  Bias,  67. 

Glyn  (Miss),  98. 

Goethe,  32,  124,  125 ;  his  con- 
versations by  Eckermann,  155. 

Goethe  and  Schiller,  correspon- 
dence of,  230. 

Goodwin  (Professor),  proposes  to 
visit  E.  F.G.,  192. 

Gordon  (Mrs.),  133,  203. 

Gout,  7. 

Groome  (Archdeacon),  46,  198, 
223. 


H. 


Half     Hours     with     the     Worst 

Authors,  31,  35. 
Hamlet,  theory  of   Gervinus   on, 

32 ;  the  Quarto  and  Folio  Texts 

of,  221. 
Harlowe's    picture    of    the  Trial 

Scene  in  Henry  VIII.,  87. 
Harness  (Rev.  W.),  Memoirs  of, 

6,  13. 
Hatherley  (Lord),  letter  from,  132. 
Hawthorne  (Nathaniel),  his  Notes 

of  Italian  Travel,  12,  153. 
Haydn,  83. 
Haydon    (B.  R.),    verses    by   his 

wife,  34. 
Haymarket  (The),  200. 
Hayward  (A.),  his  translation   of 

Faust,  125 ;  his  Select  Essays, 

170. 
Helen  of  Kirkconnel,  164. 
Helps  (Sir  Arthur),  his  death,  69. 


266 


INDEX 


Hertford  (Lord),  48,  51. 
Hood  (T.),  verses  by,  88,  96. 
Houghton  (Lord),   164,  236,   238, 

256. 
Hugo  (F.Victor),  his  translation  of 

Shakespeare,  115. 
Hunt  (Holman),  The  Shadow  of 

Death,  41. 


I. 


Intellectual  Peat,  69. 

Irving  (Henry),  in  Hamlet,  75,  j6  ; 
his  portrait,  87 ;  in  Queen  Mary, 
108,  no;  his  reading  of  Eugene 
Aram,  T25  ;  in  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,  250,  255. 


.1. 


Jenney  (Mr.),  the  owner  of  Bred- 
field  House,  10. 
Jessica,  179. 


K. 


Kean  (Edmund),  in  Othello,  53. 

Keats  (John),  his  Letters,  135;  his 
Life  and  Letters,  by  Lord 
Houghton,  164. 

Keene  (Charles),  224,  248,  260;  at 
Little  Grange,  241,  262.  • 

Kelly  (Michael),  his  Remin- 
iscences, 146. 

Kemble  (Charles),  in  Othello,  53; 
as  Falconbridge  and  Petruchio, 
59  ;  in  As  You  Like  It,  59  ;  as 
Charles  Surface,  59 ;  as  Crom- 
well, 87;  in  King  John,  182. 

Kemble  (Mrs.  Charles),  62,  63  ; 
her  '  Smiles  and  Tears,'  14  ;  con- 
tributes to  Kitchener's  Cook's 
Oracle,  89 ;  miniature  of  her 
as  Urania,  97,  100,  101,  102, 
107,  146. 

Kemble  (Fanny),  her  laws  of  corre- 
spondence, 2  ;  her  daughter's 
marriage,  3  ;  her  Memoirs,  29 ; 


in  America,  37,  47  ;  her  article 
'  On  the  Stage  '  in  the  Cornhill 
Magazine,  54,  79,  226  ;  her 
letter  about  Macready,  58  ;  her 
photograph,  62  ;  as  Louisa  of 
Savoy,  73 ;  writes  her  '  Old 
Woman's  Gossip'  in  the  Atlan- 
tic Monthly,  84,  93  ;  letter  from 
her  to  the  Editor,  93  ;  omitted 
passage  from  her  'Gossip,'  04. 
95  ;  uses  a  type-writer,  95  ;  her 
opinion  of  Portia,  96,  125  ;  on 
Goethe  and  Portia,  124  ;  end  of 
her  '  Gossip,'  126,  130 ;  her 
Records  of  a  Girlhood,  186 ; 
her  favourite  Colours,  196  ;  her 
portrait  by  Sir  T.  Lawrencr, 
210  ;  her  Records  of  Later  Life, 
226,  228. 

Kemble  (Henry),  Mrs.  Kemble' s 
brother,  59,  no. 

Kemble  (Henry),  Mrs.  Kemble'.s 
nephew,  224. 

Kemble  (John  Mitchell),  121,  133, 

153.  159- 
Kemble  (J.  P.),  179,  183  ;  portrait 

of  him    as    Guiipus,    183,  209. 

Plays  revised  by  him,  219. 
Kerrich     (Edmund),      E.     F.G.'s 

nephew,  130,  172. 

L. 

La  Fontaine,  67. 

Laurence  (S. ),  copies  Pickersgill  s 
portrait  of  Crabbe,  40 ;  letter 
from,  91. 

Leigh  (the  Hon.  Mrs.),  Mrs.  Kem- 
ble's  daughter,  161  ;  her  mar- 
riage, 3. 

L'Hopital  (Chancellor),  quoted, 
191. 

Little  Grange,  first  named,  42. 

Lowell  (J.  R. ),  '  Among  my  Books, ' 
98,  120,  135 ;  his  Odes,  120, 
123;  letter  from,  137;  iscoming 
to  England  as  Minister  of  the 
United  States,  174  ;  illness  of 
his  wife,  174,  183,  185,  192. 

Lynn  (Mary),  191,  252,  253. 


INDEX 


267 


M. 

Macbeth  quoted,  44,  69 ;  French 
opera  by  Chelard,  acted  at 
Dublin,  82. 

Macready  (W.  C),  27 ;  his  Memoirs 
edited  by  Sir  W.  F.  Pollock,  39, 

44.  5i.  53-  69-  71-  99.  io3:  his 
Macbeth,  45,  58,  69 ;  plays 
Henry  IV.,  58;  reads  Mrs. 
Kemble's  English  Tragedy,  73. 

Malkin  (Arthur),  111,  133,  213. 

Malkin  (Dr.  B.  H.),  Master  of 
Bury  School,  95 ;  Crabbe  a 
favourite  with  him,  213. 

Marjorie  Fleming,  252. 

Marot  (Clement),  quoted,  24. 

Matthews  (Charles),  his  Memoir, 

173- 
Merivale  (Charles),  Dean  of  Ely, 

193.  195- 
Montaigne,  104,  105,  106,  118. 
Musset    (Alfred   de),   Memoir   of, 

138 ;    loves    to     read    Clarissa 

Harlowe,  138. 


N. 

Napoleon,  saying  of,  218. 
Naseby,  proposed  monument  at, 

17,  28. 
Norton  (C.  E.),  20,  98,   120,   124, 

135,  151,  180,  183,  205,  209,  246, 

256. 

O. 

CEdipus,    by    Dryden    and    Lee, 

229. 
Oleander,  251. 
Oliphant  (Mrs.),  on  Carlyle,   217, 

220 ;  on  Mrs.  Carlyle,  259. 
Oriole,  47. 

P. 

Pasta,  saying  of,  54. 
Pasta,  in  Medea,  181,  200. 


Pasteur  (Le  Bon),  31,  34. 
Peacock    (E.),    Headlong      Hall 

quoted,  41. 
Pigott  (E.  F.  S.),  succeeds  W.  B. 

Donne,  51. 
Piozzi  (Mrs.),  Memoirs  of,  47. 
Pollock  (SirW.  F.),  visits  E.  F.G., 

15  ;  edits  Macready's  Memoirs, 

39,   44;  letter   from,   56;  visits 

Carlyle,  in. 
Portia,  95,  124. 

Q. 

Quixote  (Don),  41,  109,  155,  182  ; 
must  be  read  in  Spanish,  115, 
118. 

R. 

Ritchie  (Mrs.),  Miss  Thackeray, 

136. 
Rossi  in  Hamlet,  108. 
Rousseau  on  decoration,  111. 


S. 


Santley  (Mrs.),  113. 

Sartoris  (Edward),  192,  203. 

Sartoris  (Greville),  death  of,  39. 

Sartoris  (Mrs.),  Mrs.  Kemble's 
sister,  39 ;  her  illness,  140,  149  ; 
and  death,  154 ;  her  Medusa 
and  other  Tales,  203. 

Scott  (Sir  Walter),  his  indifference 
to  fame,  117  ;  the  easy  movement 
of  his  stories,  131  ;  Barry  Corn- 
wall's saying  of  him,  132  ;  his 
Kenil worth,  145  ;  the  Fortunes 
of  Nigel,  228,  231  ;  Marjorie 
Fleming,  252  ;  The  Pirate,  261. 

Sevigne"  (Madame  de),  74,  104,  106, 
137,  184,  186,  188,  221  ;  her 
Rochers,  107,  184 ;  not  shown 
to  visitors,  188 ;  list  of  her 
dramatis  personas,  126 ;  quoted, 
190,  216. 

Shakespeare,  edited  by  Clark  and 
Wright,  68,  70. 


268 


INDEX 


Shakespeare,  70. 

Shakespeare's  predecessors,  223. 

Siddons  (Mrs.),  46,  72,  182  ;  her 
portrait  by  Sir  T.  Lawrence, 
82 ;  article  on  her  in  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,  134  ;  in  Winter's 
Tale,  204. 

Skeat  (Professor),  his  Inaugural 
Lecture,  153. 

Southey's  Correspondence  with 
Caroline  Bowles,  261. 

Spanish  Tragedy  (The),  scene 
from,  63. 

Spedding  (James),  is  finishing  his 
Life  and  Letters  of  Bacon,  27  ; 
has  finished  them,  43,  52 ;  his 
note  on  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
43,  46 ;  emendation  of  Shake- 
speare, 45 ;  paper  on  Richard 
III.,  74  ;  his  opinion  of  living's 
Hamlet,  75  ;  and  Miss  Ellen 
Terry's  Portia,  75,  78 ;  will  not 
see  Salvini  in  Othello,  75  ;  on 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  78, 
80,  176,  201 ;  the  Latest  Theory 
about  Bacon,  112;  Shakespeare 
Notes,  189 ;  his  Preface  to 
Charles  Tennyson  Turner's 
Sonnets,  197  ;  his  accident,  211  ; 
and  death,  213  ;  his  Evenings 
with  a  Reviewer,  232 ;  Mrs. 
Cameron's  photograph  of  him, 
250. 

Stephen  (Leslie),  59  ;  his  'Hours 
in  a  Library,'  119. 


T. 

Taylor  (Tom),  166,  193;  his  death, 
192  ;  his  Memoir  of  Hay  don, 
194. 

Tennyson  (A.),  in  Burns's  country, 
22  ;  changes  his  publisher,  38  ; 
his  Queen  Mary,  78  ;  mentioned, 
83,  114,  160,  193,  228,  239  ;  his 
Mary  Tudor,  108,  no ;  visits 
E.  F.G.  at  Woodbridge,  114, 
115  ;  the  attack  on  him  in  the 
Quarterly,     117;    his    Harold, 


123  ;  portrait  of  him,  135  ;  his 
saying  of  Clarissa  Harlowe,  138 ; 
of  Crabbe's  portrait  by  Pickers- 
gill,  151 ;  used  to  repeat  Clerke 
Saunders  and  Helen  of  Kirk- 
connel,  164  ;  The  Falcon,  169  ; 
The  Cup,  177,  205,  207 ;  his 
saying  of  Lycidas,  178  ;  his 
eyes,  183 ;  Ballads  and  other 
Poems,  201  ;  with  E.  F.G.  at 
Mirehouse,  214;  The  Promise 
of  May,  250,  253. 

Tennyson  (Frederick),  visits  E. 
F.G.,  16 ;  his  saying  of  blind- 
ness, 183  ;  his  poems,  197. 

Tennyson  (Hallam),  115,  227,  239, 

259- 

Tennyson  (Lionel),  99;  his  mar- 
riage, 136. 

Terry  (Miss  Ellen),  as  Portia,  75, 
78 ;  Tom  Taylor's  opinion  of 
her,  96. 

Thackeray  (Minnie),  death  of,  91. 

Thackeray  (Miss),  100  ;  her  Old 
Kensingson,  13,  15,  39  ;  meets 
E.  F.G.  at  the  Royal  Academy, 
16  ;  her  Village  on  the  Cliff,  39  ; 
on  Madame  de  Sevigne\  226  ; 
on  Miss  Edgeworth,  230. 

Thackeray  (W.  M.),  39,  121  ;  not 
the  author  of  a  Tragedy,  51 ;  his 
Drawings  published,  '  The 
Orphan  of  Pimlico,'  etc.,  91,  92  ; 
his  pen  and  ink  drawing  of  Mrs. 
Kemble  as    Louisa  of  Savoy, 

73- 
Thurtell,  the  murderer,  152. 
Tichborne  trial,  28,  37. 
Tieck,    '  an   Eyewitness   of   John 

Kemble'    in    The    Nineteenth 

Century,  179,  183. 
Trench  (Archbishop),  his  Transla- 
tion of  Calderon,  185  ;  E.  F.G. 

sends  him  his  Crabbe,  185. 
Tunbridge  Wells,  58. 
Turner    (Charles  Tennyson),   his 

Sonnets,  151,  197. 
'  Twalmley  '  ('  the  Great'),  76,  103, 

117. 
Two  Noble  Kinsmen  (The),  221. 


INDEX 


269 


Urania,  146. 


U. 


W. 


Wade  (T. ),  author  of  the  Jew  of 

Aragon,  121. 
Wainewright  (T.  G.),  90. 
Wales  (Prince  of),  Thanksgiving 

Service  for  his  recovery,  10. 
Ward  (John),  Vicar  of  Stratford  on 

Avon,  his  diary,  262. 


Wesley  (John),  his  Journal  one  of 

E.  F.G.'s  hobbies,  28,  18 3. 
Whalley  (Dr.),  his  reading  of  a 

passage  in  Macbeth,  46. 
Wilkinson  (Mrs.),  E.  F.G.'s  sister, 

113,  123,  169,  225. 
Wilson  (H.  Schiitz),  231,  233,  235. 
Wister     (Mrs.),    Mrs.     Kemble's 

daughter,  6,  37,  251,  254. 
Woodberry  (G.  E.),  his  article  on 

Crabbe,  180. 
Wylie(W.H.),  onThomas  Carlyle, 

237. 


PRINTED   BY  WILLIAM  CLOWES    AND   SONS,    LIMITED, 

LONDON   AND    BECCLES.  J-    D.  &>  Co. 


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